Blazing Dragons Christmas Special - Once, and the Future
by J-R Virtual Seasons
Summary: Flicker and Flame are nurturing their first egg, Sir Loungelot is nurturing an important decision about his future, and Camelhot has one more enemy to overcome before this saga is done.
1. Chapter 1

Outside Castle Camelhot, a large collection of humans and dragons was hanging around, all of them holding notebooks and pencils. Sir Loungelot leaned out of an upstairs window, shaking his fist at them and yelling, 'Go _away_ , you infernal people! Isn't the Royal Family entitled to its privacy?'

'No!' someone shouted up to him. 'Tell us the latest news, sir knight!'

Scowling blackly, Loungelot pulled his head in through the window and said, 'Squire, run down to the kitchen and fetch a large container of water for me to throw on all these journalists.'

Crackle, the kitchen-boy-turned-squire whom Sir Loungelot had poached from Chef Turnspit some time ago, trotted obediently out of the room. Still frowning, Sir Loungelot went and took his place at the Square Table, where Sir Blaze, Sir Burnevere, Sir Hotbreath, Sir Galahot and Sir Charash were already seated.

'You could just breathe fire at them, Loungelot,' said Sir Burnevere. 'That would soon see them off.'

'Too much effort,' said Sir Loungelot. 'There are _swarms_ of them out there! Besides, a good drenching will be more amusing.'

'I can think of a hundred ways I could be amusing myself at this moment,' said Sir Blaze, 'and not one of them involves getting anybody the slightest bit wet. Why did the King call this meeting if he's not going to turn up for it?'

'Sir Flicker is late as well,' said Sir Charash. 'That's not like him. Do you suppose it's got something to do with... well, you know...?'

'With the Princess's interesting condition?' said Sir Burnevere. 'Why don't you say what you mean, Sir Charash?'

'Why don't _you_?' muttered Sir Loungelot.

'I'm just being superstitious, Sir Burnevere,' said Charash. 'I don't want to mention it in case... you know... something goes wrong.'

'Maybe they're late because something went _right_ ,' said Sir Blaze. 'Do you suppose...?'

Just then Flicker came into the room, looking tired but happy. Sir Blaze leapt to his feet, saying excitedly, 'Flicker, is there a reason why you're late? A _special_ reason, perhaps?'

'Yes,' said Flicker, his smile broadening. 'You guessed it. Flame laid the egg last night.'

Almost all the knights rushed over to Flicker, pouring out their congratulations and shaking his hand vigorously. The exceptions were Sir Loungelot, who remained in his seat and smiled secretly to himself, and Sir Blaze, who jumped up and down exclaiming, 'Oooooh, I'm starting to feel like a favourite uncle already!'

'Try an _only_ uncle,' said Sir Hotbreath.

'And not even a blood uncle,' added Sir Burnevere.

Blaze frowned, until Charash put his arm around him and said, 'What does blood matter? My brother Sir Agraflame's blood didn't mean a thing in the end, did it? Sir Blaze will be the child's uncle, and I'll be its cousin, and Aunty Griddle will be its grandmother. We're all one family!'

'Well said, Sir Charash!' exclaimed Sir Galahot. 'Why should not we all be the baby's uncles, sir?'

'No,' said Sir Blaze, 'that doesn't count!'

'Oh, come and sit down, why don't you?' Sir Loungelot said irritably, and they all came to sit down. 'And stop counting your dragons before they're hatched. What has become of good, old-fashioned anxiety when it comes to a royal birth?'

'What do you mean, Sir Loungelot?' asked Flicker, clearly alarmed.

'Well,' said Loungelot, 'for instance, what if it's a girl?'

'If it's a girl,' said Flicker, 'then Flame and I will have a daughter, obviously, straight from Heaven for us to love.'

'Come now, Flicker,' said Sir Burnevere, elbowing him in the ribs. 'That egg didn't come _straight_ from Heaven, now, did it?'

'Those journalists will be disappointed if it's a girl,' said Sir Hotbreath.

'They are both young, sir,' said Sir Galahot. 'Sons will no doubt follow.'

'It doesn't matter a bit what some silly journalists write about our baby,' said Flicker. 'Most of the masses are illiterate anyway.'

'That reminds me,' said Sir Loungelot. 'Where is that squire with my water? CRACKLE!'

It so happened that Crackle arrived at that moment, struggling with another young dragon under a vast cauldron of water. Flicker stared in amazement as they took it to Sir Loungelot, almost dropping it the entire time.

'I can't carry that enormous thing, you dolt!' said Loungelot, who was at least twice the size of both young dragons put together. 'Take it to the window!'

The two boys obeyed, scuttling towards the window as fast as they could. Sir Loungelot followed them at a more sedate pace. Once the two young dragons had the cauldron propped against the windowsill, Loungelot put both hands on it and began to tip it away from him.

'This is what we do to journalists!' he shouted, before emptying out the entire quantity of water.

There came a cacophony of shrieks from below. Smiling with satisfaction, Sir Loungelot let the weight of the cauldron fall back onto the two boys, and went back to the Square Table.

'They've gone,' he said. Then his smile dropped. 'Oh. Good morning, Your Majesty.'

'It certainly is, Sir Loungelot!' beamed King Allfire, who had taken his seat at the Square Table. 'No doubt Sir Flicker has told you the good news?'

'Indeed he has, sire,' said Loungelot. 'We are all in ecstasies of delight. Aren't we, men?'

'Yes,' said Sir Burnevere, shooting Loungelot a look across the table. ' _We_ are.'

'I say!' Allfire called out to the cauldron that was wobbling precariously across the room. 'Put that down, squire – I'm sure the kitchen boy can manage it. Did you hear the news?'

'No, Your Majesty,' said Crackle, not letting go of the cauldron. 'I was fetching the water.'

'Princess Flame has laid her egg,' Allfire told him. 'I want you to pen a letter to our friends at Singetagel Castle telling them of this joyous news, and then bring it to me to sign.'

'At once, sire.'

Crackle slowly let go of the cauldron. It wobbled even more precariously in the arms of the small kitchen boy, but he managed to steady it and hobble out of the room. Crackle then went off in a different direction.

'What a fine lad young Scuttle is,' said Flicker. 'He didn't _have_ to help Crackle carry the water up, did he? I expect you'll thank him later, Sir Loungelot.'

'An excellent idea, Sir Flicker!' said King Allfire. 'Make a note of it, Sir Loungelot.'

Sir Loungelot scowled.

'Now then,' said Allfire, 'speaking of our friends at Singetagel, we have received word this morning that Sir Wick and Princess Solder have hatched their second egg.'

'Oh, that's wonderful news!' said Flicker.

'Is that why you're so keen to write to them with _our_ baby news, Your Majesty?' asked Sir Blaze. 'I expect Mumsey's anxious for them to know we're catching up, isn't she?'

'Well,' said Allfire, a little awkwardly, 'she is certainly eager to share the joyous tidings. That's why I asked your squire to make a start, Loungelot. Cinder and Clinker are busy cleaning up their midwife garb, you see, and Queen Griddle would rather not wait.'

'What news of the new baby, Your Majesty?' asked Flicker.

'Eh?' said Allfire. 'Which one? Oh yes, the Singetagel baby, of course. It's a healthy and happy little girl. They have called her Scarlet.'

'Good thing they already have a son, isn't it?' said Loungelot. 'No more faffing about with an heir presumptive for them, once Princess Solder inherits Singetagel. Everyone always seems to feel much happier when there's a prince waiting in line, don't they?'

'Ah, yes, about that,' said King Allfire. 'That is one of the reasons I called this meeting. Sir Flicker, you have already discussed the issue with my daughter, haven't you? What do you make of it?'

'I approve wholeheartedly, sire,' said Flicker. 'How can I not, when my own wife stands to inherit? I don't believe any man could rule a kingdom better than she.'

'Ah, but what if she were unmarried?'

'I'd feel just the same, My Liege.'

'Then you will vote yea?' asked Allfire.

'Well,' said Flicker, 'that's confidential, isn't it?'

'What are you talking about?' Sir Loungelot asked irritably.

'Oh yes, I still need to tell the rest of you,' said King Allfire, just as Crackle trotted in with a scroll in his hands. 'Princess Flame has proposed that I change the law to say that oldest children will inherit the throne, regardless of gender.'

There was a pause while this piece of information sank in. Then everyone except Allfire, Flicker, Crackle and Blaze burst out laughing.

'Preposterous, sir!' said Sir Galahot.

'Girls can't rule kingdoms,' said Sir Hotbreath. Then he let out one of his fiery belches.

'Well,' said Sir Blaze, 'it won't be much of a vote with _that_ attitude, will it?'

'You're not going to vote yes, are you?' Sir Loungelot asked scathingly.

'I can't possibly decide on the spur of the moment,' Sir Blaze said with dignity. 'I think we all need some time to think about it.'

'Sir Blaze is right,' said King Allfire. 'I want you all to listen to what Princess Flame has to say on the matter. And Queen Griddle too – she's arguing on the other side.'

'Mumsey doesn't think girls should inherit?' asked Sir Blaze.

'She thinks it's an appalling idea,' said King Allfire. 'But whatever happens, we _must_ decide before the egg hatches, or things could get unnecessarily complicated. Well, squire, I see you have my letter. That was pleasingly quick. Give it to me, please.'

Crackle approached King Allfire and handed him the parchment.

'What do you think of this proposed law, Crackle?' asked Flicker.

Sir Loungelot frowned. 'Why should it matter what _he_ thinks?'

'Because he's the young generation,' said Flicker, 'and he's got something to say. Crackle and his contemporaries are going to inherit this world after we've gone. They should have some say in how it's run.'

'You'll be saying we should ask that kitchen boy next,' said Loungelot.

'Maybe we should,' said Flicker.

'Raging plague, Flicker, I wasn't being serious!'

'I know you weren't, Sir Loungelot. But it's hardly fair if the only people to vote on this idea are upper class men, is it? We should let everyone in the castle vote.'

'That's the most ridiculous notion I've ever heard in my life, Flicker,' said Sir Burnevere.

'They're mostly men anyway,' Sir Blaze said, 'and the no camp even have Mumsey on their side. It's not going to be a very fair vote either way, is it?'

'We'll just have to do the best that we can,' said King Allfire. 'Squire, go down to the kitchen and let the servants know what's been decided, will you? There's a good chap.'

'Is everyone going to vote, then?' asked Sir Hotbreath. 'Even the plebs?'

'Certainly,' said King Allfire. 'I think Sir Flicker is right about everything.'

'So I noticed,' Sir Loungelot muttered, grabbing Crackle's arm as he walked past. 'While you're at it, Crackle, try to canvass their opinions. If Flicker and the Princess are going to start implementing their revolutionary ideas already, I at least want some warning.'

'Not a fan of progress, Sir Loungelot?' asked Crackle.

'Just set in my ways,' said Loungelot. 'I'm more than happy for this sort of thing to go on _after_ I retire, when Mr Progress over there is the Prince Consort. But we're not there yet!'

'Isn't that a bit selfish, Milord?' said Crackle. 'I mean, this inheritance law affects that baby for the rest of her life. Er... or his. Well, if it's a boy, I suppose it won't make a blind bit of difference...'

Sir Loungelot frowned. 'You're getting even worse about having an opinion than Flicker was, Crackle. Watch it!'

'Yes, Milord,' said Crackle, and he went scurrying off.

'Oh, look, Loungey's back with us,' said Sir Blaze, when Sir Loungelot returned his attention to the Square Table. 'What was that all about?'

'I was just thinking,' said Sir Loungelot, 'that if this law _is_ passed, those journalists will be very disappointed if the baby's _not_ a girl.'

'Who cares about the press?' said Flicker. 'This is an important political issue. I hardly think we need worry about how it affects the people who tried to sell newspapers by claiming that Sir Blaze faked his bottom at Flame's and my wedding.'

'I ask you!' said Sir Blaze, flaring up suddenly. 'How does one fake one's bottom? Why would it even _occur_ to one to do so, wedding or no wedding?'

'All right, settle down, everyone,' said King Allfire. 'While you and your squire were having that little chat, Sir Loungelot, we were discussing the other thing that made me call this meeting.'

'And what is the other thing?' asked Sir Loungelot, sounding not the slightest bit interested.

'Don't be thick, Sir Loungelot,' said Sir Charash. 'The Christmas party, of course!'

* * *

In the kitchen, Chef Turnspit was stirring a vat of sauce while Cinder and Clinker knelt on the floor, slaving over a basin of soapy water and a washboard.

'Wonderful news, isn't it, Chef?' said Cinder.

'Yes, wonderful,' said Turnspit. 'It's going to mean a lot of work for us, of course, when they start getting people over to celebrate.'

'They'll be wanting their Christmas party soon as well,' said Clinker. 'And who do they expect to supply the paper chains?'

A small, self-conscious cough came from the doorway.

'Oh, it's you again,' said Chef Turnspit, when he saw Crackle entering the room.

'Yes, hello, it's me again,' Crackle said sheepishly. 'Sorry to bother you, Chef... fellas... only I'm supposed to tell you that we all have to think about whether or not we want princesses to inherit before their younger brothers. There's going to be a vote, you see, before the egg hatches.'

'A vote?' said Cinder.

'Which includes us?' asked Clinker.

'Yes,' said Crackle. 'Everyone in the castle is to vote, even Scuttle. Is he here?'

'Obviously not,' said Turnspit. 'He's hardly likely to be hiding in the bread bin, is he?'

'Chef Turnspit,' said Crackle, 'I really am sorry about quitting the kitchen so soon. But I worked out my notice, didn't I? I helped you find a replacement, didn't I? And Scuttle's a hard worker, isn't he?'

'Yes, he's certainly that,' said Turnspit. 'He's quick, and he knows where everything is, and if I give him any prep to do then it's always done just as I want it.'

'Well then,' said Crackle, 'it sounds like he'd make a very good kitchen boy.'

'He does,' said Turnspit. 'And just you keep it under your hat. Good kitchen boys are hard to come by, and I don't want this one getting poached.'

'Don't worry, Chef,' said Cinder. 'I'm sure Scuttle's a keeper.'

'Speak of the Devil,' Clinker added, as Scuttle entered the room with a large sack slung over his shoulder.

'Are those the right potatoes, Boy?' Turnspit asked sharply. 'Remember, only Maris Pipers will do!'

'Of course they're Maris Pipers, Chef,' said Scuttle, heaving the sack off his shoulder and onto the floor. 'You can trust me.'

'So it would seem,' said Turnspit, peering suspiciously into the sack. 'All right then, get peeling them. Crackle, you'd better give him your message, hadn't you?'

'Yes, all right,' said Crackle. 'You see, Scuttle, it's like this...'

* * *

Merle the Wizard was in a dark and dingy lair somewhere, peering eagerly into her cauldron, from which emanated the sounds of dramatic music and bad acting.

'Brad!' a female voice said.

'Lauren!'

'Oh, Brad! We can never tell Terese.'

'But what you two _don't_ know,' said Merle, 'is that Paul has a picture of you kissing in the yard!'

'Merle!' a female voice said, and Merle looked up to see a middle-aged dragon walking towards her. This dragon was wearing a dark cloak with the hood pulled down, so Merle could see her face, which had on its muzzle a horn like that of a rhinoceros.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't Volcana Le Flay,' said Merle. 'Go away – I'm watching my soup operas.'

The dragon raised her eyebrows. 'Is that any way to greet an old friend?'

'What do you want?'

'I've come to tell you that a dragon egg has been laid.'

'You mean those Singetagel Castle dragons?' said Merle, still peering into her cauldron. 'Forget it, sister. I heard about that months ago, and I don't feel like it.'

'I'm not the slightest bit interested in Singetagel Castle,' said Volcana. 'I'm talking about Camelhot!'

Merle looked up, thoughtful for just a moment. Then she shrugged, and said, 'Haven't you heard? I have no power against Camelhot now.'

'Yes, I did hear about that. I don't quite understand it, though.'

'That's too bad, because I'm not explaining it to you. I got better things to do.'

'So I see,' said Volcana, frowning at the cauldron. 'Merle, listen. I think I understand that you can't use magic against Camelhot anymore, but if I were to bring you the egg...'

'I don't think so,' said Merle. 'Something could go wrong if I tried to use it. Besides, I'm through with dragon eggs. They're more trouble than they're worth.'

Volcana frowned, and said, 'I wish you'd decided that before I laid mine!'

'I was the one who made sure there _was_ an egg!' said Merle. 'And it _wasn't_ worth the trouble. Was your boy useful to me in the end? Was he heck!'

'I'd say the blame for that lies at your own door. You were the one that raised him for the task.'

'Listen, sweetie. Need I remind you that you _wanted_ us to bring down Camelhot? Why am I even arguing with you anyway? This stuff is all way back in the past. It doesn't matter now.'

'It matters to me!'

'Well,' said Merle, 'not to me. I'm through with Camelhot, and I'm through with dragons! Anyway, I taught _you_ a little magic, didn't I? Why can't you use the egg yourself?'

'Maybe I will,' said Volcana. 'I'll have my revenge on those dragons, Merle, and then I'll have my revenge on _you_! It'll be no good saying you're too powerful for me when I have an unhatched dragon egg!'

Merle glared at her for a few seconds. Then suddenly she raised her arms above her head and wiggled her fingers, muttering under her breath. As she did so, the substance in her cauldron began to bubble and turn red; it then rose up out of the cauldron, took on the form of a terrifying monster and began moving towards Volcana.

Volcana gasped, pulled her hood over her face, turned and ran up the stairs to the door. Merle cackled happily to herself, then turned back to her cauldron, which of course was now empty.

'Aww, rats!' she said, kicking it in frustration.

* * *

'Where are you taking me again, Flicker?' Sir Loungelot asked irritably, as he followed Flicker along one of Camelhot's numerous corridors, with Crackle at his heels. 'I'm in the middle of trying to work out a very serious problem, you know.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' said Flicker. 'Can I help?'

'Certainly not,' said Loungelot. 'My squire is thinking it over. It is constantly on his mind.' He looked over his shoulder. 'Isn't that right, squire?'

'Yes, Milord,' said Crackle.

'So I wouldn't dream of asking _you_ , Flicker,' Loungelot went on. 'Even though you always were rather good at this sort of thing. You see, Crackle is more or less adequate as a squire, but he doesn't invent. Hasn't got the brains for that – have you, Crackle?'

'No, Milord,' said Crackle.

'You mean you need something inventing?' asked Flicker.

'It would be a help,' said Loungelot. 'I'm planning the most spectacular surprise Christmas present for the Queen, only I haven't quite worked out all the details yet.'

'And that's a very serious problem, is it?' Flicker asked, with some amusement.

'It most certainly is,' Loungelot said with feeling. 'It's not easy to top _you_ these days, Flicker, with that egg brewing away so nicely.'

'I'm sure you'll manage,' said Flicker. 'A trivial gift might be just what the Queen wants at the moment. Waiting for this egg to hatch is quite, well, stressful I suppose. I mean, I'm over the moon about it, of course...'

'Of _course_ ,' said Loungelot. 'Anyone can see you're as happy as a pig in mud. Why should you think otherwise?'

'Well,' said Flicker, 'if I should come across a little, well, _anxious_... that's because I am. I've never been happier in my life, Sir Loungelot, only I can't help thinking... what if I can't do it? What if I'm no good as a father?'

'Flicker,' said Loungelot, 'some men don't earn the respect of their sons. I don't see you having that problem.'

'Well, I hope you're right. But you know, it might be a girl – you said so yourself.'

'So I did, in which case, the same principle applies. All the same, I'm willing it to be a boy.'

'Would that have anything to do with this referendum, I wonder?'

'Yes, actually,' said Loungelot. 'I'm not being sexist or anything. It's just that whatever the result, there can't be any hard feelings either way if it's a boy, can there?'

'But, Milord,' said Crackle, 'I thought you said –'

'Shut up, Crackle,' said Loungelot.

'Actually,' said Flicker, 'that's why I've brought you to see Flame. She asked for you because she hasn't given you her campaign speech yet. Look, here we are at our bedchamber.'

'So we are,' said Loungelot. 'You know, it really isn't seemly for her to receive visitors in there.'

'You can go somewhere else with her,' said Flicker. 'It's my turn to sit on the egg.'

'How this world is leaving me behind!' said Loungelot. 'In my day, that was women's work.'

'Things change, Sir Loungelot,' said Flicker, as he pushed open the chamber door.

'Sir Flicker, _there_ you are!' said Queen Griddle, in the utmost delight. 'You mustn't leave a wife on her own for too long, you naughty boy. I mean _your_ wife, of course – I wasn't talking about me! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, I must have my little jokes. But seriously,' Griddle added, stepping close to Flicker and speaking quietly into his ear hole. 'She's just told me she's not sore anymore. BYEEE!' she finished loudly, right into Flicker's ear, then she trotted off laughing ecstatically to herself.

'Humph,' said Sir Loungelot. 'She didn't even notice me!'

'She will next time, I expect,' said Flicker, rubbing his sore ear.

'Hardly,' said Loungelot. 'She's expecting you to produce the spare to the heir already!'

'Don't let her get to you, Flicker,' said Flame, who was sitting at the foot of the bed. 'She's just very excitable at the moment.'

'I suppose that's better than before,' said Flicker. 'I really thought she was starting to go off me.'

'Oh yes?' Loungelot sniggered. 'Afraid you were gouty and impotent already, was she?'

'Well,' Flicker said awkwardly, 'I don't know about _that_.'

'Don't take any notice of him, Flicker,' said Flame, holding out her hand to him. 'I expect he's afraid that Stepmother Griddle thinks _he's_ gouty and impotent!'

'Well,' said Flicker, taking Flame's proffered hand in his, 'we can't have that, can we? If you can think of anything a healthy and virile knight might give a queen for Christmas, Flame, then perhaps you could let Crackle know.'

'It's a nice thought, Flicker,' said Loungelot, 'but I might as well give up on that idea. What better present is there than a first grandchild and the future of Camelhot all rolled into one?'

'Well,' said Flame, 'she _is_ all about the baby at the moment, Sir Loungelot, er, Crackle.' She looked at Crackle, who was hovering in the background, and smiled at him. 'It's best to bend with the wind, I'd say – get her something a grandmother would like.'

'Yes, well,' said Loungelot, 'I'll leave it with you, Crackle. Now, I believe Princess Flame wants to try and drag me into the Sixth Century.'

'So I do, Sir Loungelot,' said Flame, getting to her feet and waiting for Flicker to take her place on the large, golden-speckled egg. When he had done so, she planted an enormous kiss on his lips before leading Sir Loungelot out of the room. Crackle began to follow them.

'Wait, Crackle,' Flicker said, smiling, and Crackle waited. 'I was just wondering how you were. Not working too hard, I hope. And you're not lonely at all, are you? A squire could go mad in this place without a friend to talk to. That boy Scuttle is your friend, isn't he? Didn't he come here on your recommendation?'

'Sort of, Milord,' said Crackle. 'He and I were tolerably well acquainted when he came here. If anyone's working too hard, Milord, it's him. He says he wants to be a head chef in four years. But will you excuse me now? I have a few errands to run for Sir Loungelot, and then I suppose I'd better go Christmas shopping.'

* * *

The village was white with snow and bright with garish Christmas decorations strung up between the little thatched roofs. The serfs were out in force peddling their wares, with many of the market stalls bearing signs that boasted a free gift-wrapping service. Crackle and Scuttle worked their way through the throng of shoppers, Scuttle anxiously consulting a shopping list.

'I'm glad I ran into you here,' Crackle was saying. 'It's nice to have some company, isn't it?'

'Chef doesn't know how quickly things are snapped up in the lead-up to Christmas,' said Scuttle, not looking up from his list. 'He thinks he's left plenty of time, but it'll be _my_ fault if all the best turkeys are gone, you mark my words!'

'Even the best turkey is a bitter turkey in my opinion,' said Crackle.

'That's why we'll cover it in butter and wrap it in bacon,' said Scuttle. 'Then it'll be delicious. Not that the likes of you and me will get any, mate. I need to get the bacon too, _and_ the butter, and that's nothing to the ingredients for the chocolate log. I'm even supposed to get a thing to make robin footprints in the icing sugar!'

'That's ridiculous,' said Crackle.

'Well, to be fair, that wasn't Chef's idea – it was that pedantic busybody Sir Blaze.'

'I like Sir Blaze.'

'At least I don't have to worry about the Christmas pudding,' Scuttle went on. 'That's been under the bed in the spare room for months. What about you? Are you really going to be able to find this spectacular, totally original baby-related gift for the Queen?'

'Oh dear, I don't know,' said Crackle, looking worried. 'I don't even know what I'm looking for!'

'What about finding a portrait painter or something like that? Of course, it would have to be a cut above the rest – free miniatures for all the family and a personalised rattle thrown in, or something.'

'But what if the egg hasn't hatched by Christmas?'

'One problem at a time, mate,' said Scuttle. 'There's no guarantee this miracle portrait painter even exists. Have a look round – maybe you'll find something else. Shall we split up? I need to go and find this stupid turkey, and if I see anything for you while I'm at it, I'll let you know.'

'Okay,' said Crackle. 'Meet you back here in an hour?'

'Fine,' said Scuttle, looking at his list again as he went wandering off.

Crackle stood for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he went to browse the various market stalls. He wandered for a little while, before stopping and saying to one of the stallholders, 'Is that a robin footprint maker for icing sugar?'

'Not just icing sugar,' said the serf, proudly holding up the tiny plastic bird's leg between finger and thumb. 'You can make robin prints in any kind of powder or pliable substance. You interested?'

'Yes, I'll take it.'

'You want it gift-wrapped?'

'Oh, well, I... yes, all right then. Thanks.'

A very short time later, Crackle was walking away with his almost microscopic parcel, looking rather bewildered by the whole experience. He slipped the tiny thing into his pocket, then approached a stall hung with baby booties and soft toys.

'You're a little young to have gotten some girl into trouble, aren't you?' said the grumpy serf who was running the stall.

'It's for a friend,' said Crackle, looking irritated. 'The royal baby at Camelhot, if you must know. Do you have anything fit for a prince or princess?'

'Don't you know anything?' said the serf. 'That baby won't have the title of prince or princess yet, because it's descended from royalty through the female line.'

'I don't think much of your customer service skills,' said Crackle. 'Don't you want to make a sale?'

'I don't care if I sell something for the royal baby or not,' said the serf. 'I'm so sick of hearing about the thing! All those singers walking through the village with the news that the kid still ain't hatched yet. Give me a break!'

'I can see how that might be annoying,' said Crackle. 'But it's not the baby's fault. _Or_ mine.'

'Yeah, well,' said the serf, 'I just got the usual stuff, kid. Booties, pacifiers, teething rings...'

'BABY PORTRAITS!' a voice yelled somewhere nearby, and Crackle turned towards it. 'Quality baby portraits! Royals, dragons and royal dragons a speciality!'

'Are you _serious_?' Crackle asked incredulously, as the owner of the voice came into view. She was a dragon in a dark cloak, with all sorts of artistic equipment hung about her person.

'Why would I lie?' the portrait painter answered. 'I know just what a sitting dragon wants from a baby portrait. If you commission paintings of the unhatched egg and the newly-hatched baby, I throw in one of my very special three-in-one frames absolutely free!'

'Why three?' asked Crackle.

'Two for the pictures, and a tiny one to display the egg tooth when it falls out. Most parents want to keep those, but they're so small, they usually end up getting lost.'

'What about the royal aspect?'

'Tiny orb and sceptre,' said the artist, producing these items from somewhere inside her cloak.

'Well,' said Crackle, 'Queen Griddle would certainly like all that. In fact, it seems too good to be true.'

'Why should that be?' the painter asked defensively. 'I'm just trying to make a living!'

'So am I,' said Crackle, 'and I'd be a fool not to take you to see Sir Loungelot.'

'Sir Loungelot... of course. Well, why shouldn't this person commission me? You said yourself, I'm exactly what he's looking for. Why don't I come back to Camelhot now? You _are_ from Camelhot?'

'Yes. You want to come now, you say? I can't go _right_ now – I'm meeting someone. I've had this fake robin's leg wrapped up for him, and... well, never mind about that. Don't you want to carry on trying to flog your services until the market closes?'

'Oh, well,' said the artist, 'I don't suppose there are many other royal dragon babies around, do you?'

'But those are just specialisms,' said Crackle. 'You paint other babies as well, surely.'

'Oh... yes... so I do. Well, I've got enough work to be getting on with. This is a busy time of year for me. I'll just wait with you for your friend, and then we can all go back to Camelhot together.'

* * *

'Who goes there?' Clinker called down from the battlements.

'It's us, fellas!' Scuttle called back up to them.

'Who's your friend?' asked Cinder.

'She is a portrait painter come to see Sir Loungelot!' called Crackle.

'Sounds all right,' said Cinder, and they lowered the drawbridge.

As the painter followed the two young dragons into the castle, she kept her head down and self-consciously tried to tug her cowl over a very obvious rhinoceros horn.


	2. Chapter 2

'Baby portraits, eh?' Sir Loungelot asked sceptically, eyeing the painter up and down. 'Isn't that a bit tacky, Crackle?'

'I don't think so, Milord,' said Crackle.

'Dragon mothers love them,' said the painter, still trying to drag her cowl further over her face.

'What about grandmothers?' asked Loungelot.

'This baby has no grandmother, sir knight.'

'Queen Griddle will be grandmother to this child, and don't you dare to suggest otherwise!'

'Forgive me, My Lord,' said the artist. 'I have always believed that blood is thicker than water.'

'Poppycock,' said Loungelot. 'Have you met my mother?'

'Well,' said the artist, shifting awkwardly on her feet. 'How would I know if I had?'

'Anyway, I suppose you're the best I can do, with so little time left. I still have to get the parents to agree, though, don't I? We are, of course, very protective of our beloved heir-to-be. You have some credentials, I suppose? Or some samples of your work?'

'Of course,' said the artist, scrabbling about inside her cloak and producing a miniature portrait of a baby, also with a rhinoceros horn. 'Here you are.'

'I suppose that's adequate,' said Loungelot, looking at the miniature and then at the hooded figure. 'Relative of yours, is he? I can see a family resemblance. Come to think of it, you seem rather familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?'

The artist hesitated a moment. Then she said, 'No.'

'Well,' said Loungelot, 'you'd better come with me.'

* * *

Flicker was still sitting on the egg at the foot of the bed, and Flame was kneeling beside him, whispering and giggling into his ear. Flicker, giggling also and blushing deeply, said, 'No really, Flame, you're flattering me.'

'I am not,' said Flame. 'Stop being so modest.'

'And what, show it to the knights?' said Flicker. Then they both burst into raucous laughter.

They stopped laughing when Sir Loungelot barged into the room. Crackle and the artist were with him, but they hung back in the doorway. Flame jumped to her feet, and tried to stop laughing and sound stern as she said, 'Sir Loungelot, really!'

'Er... my apologies, Your Highness,' said Loungelot. 'I didn't know you were here.'

'You shouldn't barge in on Sir Flicker whether I am with him or not,' said Flame. 'Haven't you had enough time to get used to things?'

'Sometimes I think I'll never get used to things,' Loungelot said, with a sigh. 'Sorry, Flicker.'

'Think nothing of it, Sir Loungelot,' said Flicker. 'Did you want to see me?'

'Both of you, actually,' said Loungelot. 'I wish to commission this lady to paint your egg.'

'What colour?' asked Flicker, and Flame once again burst out laughing.

Loungelot frowned at him. 'You know very well what I mean.'

'Do I?' said Flicker. 'Are you talking about an egg _portrait_? I've never heard of such a thing.'

'That is precisely why it's such a good idea,' said Loungelot. 'It's my unique Christmas present to the Queen! This lady will paint the baby too, of course, after it's hatched.'

'No strangers must be allowed access to the egg, Sir Loungelot,' said Flame. 'But your artist will be quite welcome to paint the baby.'

'But that might be after Christmas!' said Loungelot, scowling. 'What am I to do until then?'

'The stakes have really lowered around here, haven't they?' said Flicker. 'What with Merle unable to touch us, and Count Geoffrey and his Evil Knights in the dungeon.'

'Will you at least talk to her?' said Loungelot.

'I will,' said Flame, 'outside this room.'

She squeezed Flicker's arm, brushed past Sir Loungelot and approached the two figures in the doorway. Loungelot turned to scowl at Flicker.

'What's that look for?' asked Flicker.

'It's all right for _you_ , you know,' said Loungelot. 'Oh, I don't know! Perhaps I should retire.'

'Retire?' said Flicker. 'That would be a shame. We'd miss you.'

Loungelot snorted with derision. ' _Who'd_ miss me?'

'Well, I would, for a start.'

'You... you would?'

'Of course I would. You and I kicked around together for a long time, and I did learn _some_ things in your employ. I saved Flame from Count Geoffrey and her evil cousin Sorchred with flair, didn't I?'

'Well,' said Loungelot, smiling slightly, 'it wasn't bad.'

'You'll at least stay until the baby hatches, won't you?'

'Hold your horses, Flicker – it was only a thought. Besides, I don't have anywhere to go.'

* * *

'I'm sorry,' said Flame, 'but I don't know you. You might be a sorcerer in disguise, for all I know.'

'But then wouldn't I have disguised myself as someone you know?' asked the artist. 'If I were as skilled in magic as all that, wouldn't I have... say... removed your husband and taken his place?'

'That wouldn't work,' said Flame. 'I know my Flicker when I see him. Look, why are you so keen to paint the egg? I promise you won't be out of pocket. I'll commission you to paint the baby for years, if you wish. I'm sure you'd make a better court painter than Cinder and Clinker.'

'You're making a mistake,' said the painter, getting increasingly agitated, and not noticing that her hood was slipping from her head. 'Look, perhaps you'll just let me _see_ the egg, so I can paint it from memory. I'm good at remembering individual dragon eggs, honest!'

'The answer is no!' said Flame, really irritated now. 'No one from outside Camelhot sees the egg, and that is my final word! Now, I really must ask you to –'

'I didn't want to do this yet,' said the artist, and she grabbed Flame's arm. 'I meant to get you alone with the egg, but you leave me no –'

'Unhand her, wench!' said Crackle, materialising out of the shadows. He stepped between Flame and the artist, brandishing a sword.

'Insolent whelp!' fumed the artist. 'I know just how to deal with _you_!'

She dug her hand into a pocket of her cloak, and pulled out a pouch full of something. This she emptied onto Crackle's head, covering him with a dark purple powder. Crackle coughed, and blinked through the powder in surprise.

'Blast!' said Volcana. 'That's poster paint. Now, where did I put it?'

'GUARDS!' Flame yelled at the top of her lungs, as the artist patted herself all over. 'KNIGHTS!' Then she hammered on her bedroom door. 'SIR LOUNGELOT, get out here! And don't let Flicker leave the egg!'

Sir Loungelot flung open the door just in time to get a faceful of the powder that had been intended for Crackle. He fell over at once, and began snoring deeply in the doorway.

'Oh, for goodness' sake!' said Flame.

'Flame?' Flicker called anxiously. 'What's happening?'

'Nothing much, darling!' Flame called back, as the phoney portrait painter tried to wrestle her out of the way of the door. 'I'm fine, honestly!'

Flame then breathed a stream of fire into her attacker's face, which made her let go and turn away, shrieking. Crackle breathed fire at her also, so that her cloak caught light. She quickly tore it off and threw it away down the corridor.

'Well done, Crackle!' said Flame. 'You've disarmed her. Blazing dragons!'

She was forced to duck as her attacker produced an enormous axe from somewhere about her person, and gave it a swing that would have cleaved Flame in two, had she not moved just in time. The axe ended up embedded in the wall. Screaming with fury, the marauding dragon was trying to wrench the thing free when Sirs Burnevere, Blaze, Charash, Hotbreath and Galahot appeared.

'Finally!' said Flame. 'Where have you _been_?'

'Egad, sir!' said Sir Galahot. 'It's the King's evil half-sister Volacana!'

'Who let _her_ in here, I'd like to know?' cried Sir Burnevere.

'Oh dear,' said Crackle despairingly. 'I'm afraid it was me!'

'Us too, old chum,' said Cinder, as he and Clinker appeared. 'Don't worry. You weren't to know.'

'And neither were we,' said Clinker.

'Sir Loungelot, on the other hand...' said Sir Burnevere, frowning at his sleeping colleague.

'Grab her, sirs!' said Sir Galahot. 'Throw her into the dungeon! Lock the key! Throw away the door! Um, I mean...'

'We all know what you mean, Galahot,' said Sir Blaze as he, Charash, Hotbreath and Burnevere advanced on Volcana. 'We've got you now, evildoer! How dare you lay hands on my sister!'

'She's not your sister!' fumed Volcana, making no attempt to resist as the four knights grabbed her arms. Then suddenly she kicked up her foot and enveloped them all in a bright pink mist. Everyone closed their eyes and coughed violently. Sir Hotbreath belched fire.

When they opened their eyes, Volcana was gone.

'Flame?' Flicker's voice came feebly through the stunned silence. 'Sir Loungelot? Anyone? Please tell me what's happening!'

Flame turned, stepped over Sir Loungelot and ran to rejoin Flicker and the egg.

'So,' said Sir Blaze, 'who was she again?'

'The King's evil half-sister Volcana!' cried Sir Galahot. 'Mother to Scorchred, sir!'

'Oh,' said Blaze, 'I _see_! I never met her, did I?'

'Indeed not, Sir Blaze,' said Sir Burnevere. 'It was before your time.'

'But Loungelot _did_ meet her _,_ you say?' asked Sir Charash.

'Yes,' said Sir Burnevere, frowning deeply. 'I'm sorry to say that he did.'

'We've never heard this story,' said Cinder. 'What exactly _is_ the story of the King's evil half-sister Volcana, Milords?'

'Gadzooks, sirrah, we have no time for that now!' exclaimed Sir Galahot. 'We must inform the King of this at once! She got away, sirs! She will surely attack us again!'

The knights all wandered off, talking urgently among themselves, leaving Sir Loungelot to sleep loudly in Flicker and Flame's doorway. Crackle stayed behind as well, staring down at his unconscious master with an agonised look on his face.

'Don't worry about it, old chap,' said Cinder, clapping Crackle on the back and fixing him with a bracing smile. 'It's not your fault. We were the ones who opened the drawbridge, and anyway, Sir Loungelot really should have clicked.'

'He'll be in trouble,' added Clinker.

'I knew it was all too convenient,' said Crackle, 'just running into her like that. Why didn't I try to find out more before I brought her here?'

'Stop beating yourself up,' said Clinker.

'You didn't even know the King _had_ an evil half-sister,' said Cinder. 'We knew she existed, but we don't know anything about her. I really do think the knights might have told us. We all need to know this stuff, now that things are about to kick off.'

'I bet Sir Flicker knows,' said Clinker. 'He knows all the stories.'

'I don't think we should bother him and the Princess, though,' said Cinder. 'I guess we'll just have to wait, unless someone comes along right now who can tell us the story.'

Just as he finished speaking, the sound of the drawbridge bell met their ears. Cinder and Clinker ran to the nearest window and leaned out.

'Who goes there?' called Cinder.

'It's me, the Minstrel!' came the answer, in a familiar Scottish accent. 'I hear I'm wanted for a party!'

'Be down in a jiffy!' called Cinder.

'Perfect timing,' said Clinker.

'Come with us, Crackle,' said Cinder, as he and Clinker made their way down the corridor. 'You remember the Minstrel from the royal wedding, don't you? He really _does_ know all the stories!'

* * *

King Allfire looked most grave as he sat at the Square Table with Sirs Blaze, Burnevere, Hotbreath, Galahot and Charash.

'The news you have brought me,' the King said, 'is most grave. As I'm sure you all remember, my half-sister wants nothing more than to see the destruction of Camelhot.'

'Excuse me, My Liege,' said Sir Blaze, raising his hand like a schoolchild. 'Sir Charash and I don't know anything about her.'

'All you need know for now is that she is the mother of my late nephew Scorchred, and that she has always coveted my crown,' said Allfire. 'Now, the question is of course, what are we going to – ah, Loungelot, you're here.' His voice as he said this was devoid of emotion.

'It takes more than a faceful of magic powder to keep _me_ down, Your Majesty,' said Loungelot, looking very sheepish as he took his seat.

'It has been many years since you saw Volcana, has it not?' said Allfire.

'A _great_ many, My Liege,' said Loungelot, not meeting the King's eye. 'And even back then, I had only a passing glimpse of her. Of course, had I but known...'

'Never mind, Sir Loungelot,' said Allfire, with a sigh. 'What's done is done, and now we know that Volcana has returned. There's no point getting upset over the means of acquiring this knowledge.'

'Sir Loungelot, you steaming great idiot!' Princess Flame's voice came from the doorway, followed by the dragon herself, her fists clenched in fury and smoke rising from her nostrils.

'Flame, please...' said Flicker, scurrying in just behind her.

'What is the _matter_ with you?' yelled Flame, kicking Sir Loungelot so hard that he fell off his chair.

'Ow!' said Loungelot, sitting up and rubbing his shin where it had been kicked.

'Don't you "ow" me!' said Flame, standing over him with her hands on her hips. 'You're lucky I don't have you racked for this! How _dare_ you let a known enemy anywhere near my egg?'

'Flame, please calm down,' said Flicker, taking Flame's hands in his. 'Volcana didn't get anywhere near the egg – you saw to that. No harm was done.'

' _This_ time,' said Flame, still glaring at Loungelot.

'It wasn't just me, you know,' Loungelot said irritably. 'Crackle brought her here. Cinder and Clinker opened the drawbridge for her.'

'But you'd met her before, you dolt!' cried Flame. 'And by the way, if you didn't send your still very young squire to do everything for you all on his own, this sort of thing might not happen!'

'Suppose she's trying to steal the egg again right now?' Loungelot asked facetiously, as he got to his feet. 'Who's looking after it?'

'The Queen, of course,' Flame snapped. 'If anyone around here can be trusted with an egg, she can.'

'Wouldn't you like to go back to it, Flame?' Flicker asked gently.

'Not just yet,' said Flame. 'I want to know what's going to be done about this evil aunt of mine.'

'I blame myself, Puff,' said King Allfire. 'She turned up here very unhappy when _you_ were laid as well... although, I must admit, she never actually tried to steal or harm you. Perhaps, over the years, she has grown even more bitter and twisted, and even more anxious to destroy the future of Camelhot.'

'But there's something else this time, My Liege,' said Flicker. 'If you recall, I killed her son.'

'Oh yes,' said Allfire, 'so you did. She must think that a bit of a cheek, I suppose, even though the little worm deserved it.'

'He was still her son,' said Flicker. 'I never even thought about his mother. I feel a bit guilty about it now, to be honest.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Flicker!' snapped Flame. 'He tried to have you killed, and me sent into exile or something, by telling Daddy we were lovers! Even though we weren't,' she added, glancing at her father. 'Then he tried to help Count Geoffrey take over Camelhot with the intention of betraying him! And he tried to blackmail me into marrying him! And when I refused, he wanted to make me watch you die and then _kill me_!'

'You're right, Flame,' said Flicker, his expression hardening. 'I'm very glad I killed him first.'

'Well,' said Sir Loungelot, at last resuming his seat at the Square Table, 'thank you for that very useful recap, Your Highness.'

'Shut up!' said Flame, turning to face him, a small jet of fire shooting from her mouth. 'What am I rabbiting on for, anyway? We should all be listening to Flicker!'

'Why should we all be listening to me?' asked Flicker.

'Because you know what to do!' said Flame. 'Don't you?'

Flicker looked into her eyes, and saw that they were pleading with him. He squeezed her hands, and then slid into his seat at the Square Table.

'Well,' he said, 'you don't need me to tell you that Volcana _must_ be incapacitated. As she is apparently a sorceress, this may prove difficult. We don't know the extent of her powers, but that can't be helped. We'll just have to play it by ear. I say we need to attack her before she returns to us. If you're going to play cat and mouse, be the cat. We can't let her surprise us again.'

'Well said, Sir Flicker, sir!' said Sir Galahot. 'We must storm her fortress and bring her to our dungeon, and if she cannot be held, then by God we must kill her!'

'You seem to feel very strongly about her, Galahot,' remarked Sir Hotbreath.

'She is evil incarnate, sir!' said Galahot.

'That's what you said about Sir Agraflame,' said Hotbreath. 'You think _everyone's_ evil incarnate.'

'Excuse me,' said Sir Blaze, 'but does she actually _have_ a fortress that we can storm?'

'Certainly she does,' said King Allfire, 'but there's no guarantee that we'll find her there. Come to think of it, though, I have an idea that someone once told me she is magically linked to the place. It's certainly worth a look, anyway.'

'Which place is that, My Liege?' asked Sir Charash.

'Our childhood home, dear boy,' said Allfire. 'Ah, such a dark and desolate place it is now, known as Smoulderous Gard.'

* * *

'Smoulderous Gard,' the Minstrel said in ominous tones, as Crackle, Cinder and Clinker listened attentively, just inside the drawbridge. 'That's where things began to go wrong for Volcana, when she was just a child.'

'She was a child?' said Crackle. 'Then whatever happened, she can't really be blamed, can she?'

'This story extends well into her adult years, young Crackle,' said the Minstrel. 'Still, you be the judge, when you've heard it all. It begins on a dark night... where a dark man waits... with a dark purpose.'

* * *

A dragon stood on a hilltop, gazing at his surroundings, a crown perched atop his head. His eye fell upon a large marquee, brightly lit and standing out garishly against the dark night. The dragon king descended the hill and made his way into the marquee, which was hung with Christmas decorations and full of tables laden with nibbles. At one of these tables, Merle was dropping slices of citrus fruit into a bowl of red liquid.

'Must I drink a foul potion to carry out this plan, Merle?' asked the dragon.

'What, this stuff?' said Merle. 'No way! This is punch, for the party. It's at least as strong as one of my potions, though. A couple of cups of this, and our friend the Baronet will be drunker than an alcoholic at a bachelor party. He'll never remember he didn't spend the night with his wife.'

'Don't you think I should kill him, then?'

Merle shrugged, and said, 'You can if you want, but what's the point? Do you want to start a war and lose your kingdom? I'm already getting you what you want, Fluether.'

'So you are,' said the dragon called Fluether. 'And what is the price I must pay, witch? You have been unsettlingly elusive about that.'

'You still agreed to this, though, didn't you? You must have it bad, kid.'

'Ah, Merle, you don't know what love is.'

'Love my foot!' said Merle, and cackled. 'You're right, I don't know what it is – but I know what lust is. If it was for money, or power, or a set of elusive Top Trumps cards, I could understand it. But all of this, for some baronet's wife?'

'This was your idea, Merle,' scowled Fluether. 'I ask you again: what price?'

Merle glared at him for a moment, looking him up and down. Then she said, 'There's no cost to you, Fluether, except what is preordained by the Deep Magic. There will be a child. A boy. I have seen him, and I intend to let him hatch unmolested.'

'Oh yes? Will this boy be as wicked as his father?'

'I don't think so. But there can be no evil without good.'

'Your guests are beginning to arrive, Merle,' said Fluether, turning towards the sound of voices and seeing a throng of people descending the nearby hill, on top of which sat the imposing fortress of Smoulderous Gard. 'How can we be sure the Lady Yburna is not among them?'

'She never goes to parties,' said Merle. 'She stays at home with her daughter.'

'There is a daughter?'

'Of course there's a daughter. You can just put her to bed – she won't cramp your style. Meanwhile, I'll make sure the Baronet has plenty of punch. Go now. The night is your friend. Use it.'

She nodded towards the castle. Fluether stared at her a moment, then put his hands to his face. What he felt were not his own features, but those of another dragon. Laughing wickedly, he turned and ran from the marquee, taking a long way round so as to avoid the throng of party guests.

* * *

In Smoulderous Gard, Lady Yburna was sitting in her bedchamber and brushing the long, purple hair of her young daughter. Of course this was Volcana, with her distinctive rhinoceros horn, a perfect miniature of her mother.

The chamber door burst open, and in came Fluether, of course wearing the face of the Baronet.

'My Lord!' said Lady Yburna in astonishment. 'Back so soon? I thought you'd be out on a bender all night!'

'Is that what I normally do?' chuckled Fluether, advancing into the room. 'What a terrible husband I must be. Come, my love – let me make it up to you.'

'Mother!' cried Volcana, as Fluether approached, for she could see his true face. 'That's not...'

'To bed, little one!' said Fluether, shepherding the child out of the room, ignoring her cries of anguish. 'Quickly now, or Santa won't come and fill your stocking!'

'Mother!' Volcana cried again, as the door was slammed in her face.

* * *

'That's the most horrible story I've ever heard!' cried Crackle, aghast.

'Disgraceful!' said Cinder.

'Well,' said Clinker, 'that's Merle for you.'

'What happened next, Minstrel?' asked Cinder. 'Besides the obvious, I mean.'

'King Allfire was conceived, laid and hatched,' the Minstrel said, 'as you may have guessed. Merle's punch was as powerful as she said it was, and perhaps it was not entirely without magic. The Baronet had no idea that Allfire wasn't his son, and of course his poor wife wouldn't have known. Besides Merle herself, only Volcana knew the truth.'

'Why could she see who Fluether really was?' asked Cinder.

'Who knows?' said the Minstrel. 'Maybe Merle planned it that way.'

'I believe it was because she had the innocence of a child,' asked Crackle. 'Why did she go bad?'

'Well,' said the Minstrel, strumming softly on his lute, 'no one knows what she would have been like if left to her own devices. Maybe she was always bad inside. But then, of course, there was another Christmas Eve with this young woman.'

* * *

In a large and lonely room of Smoulderous Gard, the young Volcana stood staring at two stockings that hung by the fireplace. One was embroidered with the word _Volcana_ , and the other with _Allfire_. The owner of the latter stocking was sitting on the floor, playing with a rattle and occasionally hiccuping fire. He looked just as he did in the miniature portrait that his half-sister would one day show to Sir Loungelot.

The room was suddenly filled with thunder and lightning. Volcana jumped out of her skin, and whipped round to see that Merle was standing over the infant Allfire, rubbing her hands together and cackling.

'Who are you?' Volcana demanded crossly.

'I'm your Aunty Merle, of course,' said Merle, still cackling evilly. 'Don't mind me. I just came to check up on your baby brother.'

Volcana scowled. 'He's not my _real_ brother. The man who made him wasn't my real father.'

'Smart kid,' said Merle. 'Do you want to know why I'm interested in him, Volcana?'

'I don't care,' said Volcana.

'He has a very great destiny, whereas you, honey, are destined to be passed over for him for the rest of your life. It's not fair, is it? He's not even the Baronet's real son!'

'No,' said Volcana, 'that's _not_ fair! Why are you giving _him_ a great destiny?'

'I never said I was giving it,' said Merle. 'In fact, after he's built himself up, I intend to tear him down. Do you like the sound of that, Volcana?'

'Who decides who gets a great destiny, if not you?'

'That's older magic than mine, kid,' said Merle, scowling. 'If you really want to know...'

'Yes?'

'Try talking to the Lady of the Lake.'

* * *

'The Lady of the Lake!' cried Crackle. 'Surely Volcana never spoke to such a legendary being.'

'Oh, aye, she did,' said the Minstrel. 'But not for many a year.'

'This is a ripping story, Minstrel!' said Cinder.

'Please go on,' said Clinker.

'Well,' the Minstrel said, but he didn't go on, for at that moment Sir Loungelot appeared.

'What are you all doing hanging around here?' he said. 'You're mad. We're going to Smoulderous Gard, Crackle – the other knights and I. We think it better that you don't accompany us this time, but I need you to get my things together. Pop down to the kitchen for a few cheese rolls while you're at it – there's a good lad.'

'Yes, Milord,' said Crackle. 'If you don't mind my asking, Milord, why aren't you taking me?'

'You aren't needed,' said Loungelot. 'You're not a knight _yet_ , you know.'

'Am I being punished for bringing Volcana to the castle?'

'Raging plague, Crackle, of course you're not!'

'You'd best tell him the real reason, Sir Loungelot,' said the Minstrel, 'or he'll never believe that he's not being punished.'

Loungelot glared at the Minstrel for a moment. Then he said to him, not to Crackle, 'If you must know, the King advises that one so young and inexperienced should not go to Smoulderous Gard. Crackle would be of so little use, it's not worth the risk. His Majesty speaks of some strange enchantment. I don't think Crackle would suffer much, personally, but there it is. My squire stays here. He can help guard the egg. After all, there's a chance this storming the castle malarkey will turn out to be a complete waste of time and resources. So, Crackle, if you're satisfied now...?'

'Yes, Milord,' said Crackle, and he went scuttling off.

'Don't worry, Crackle!' the Minstrel called after him. 'We'll finish the story later!'

'My dear Minstrel,' said Loungelot, 'it is not a crèche we're running here.'

'That's too bad,' the Minstrel said, smiling, 'seeing as there is soon to be a child in Camelhot again.'

'Yes,' Sir Loungelot muttered, turning to make his way back into the body of the castle. 'I certainly hope you're right about that.'

* * *

Queen Griddle was still sitting on the egg at the end of Flicker and Flame's bed, and had now been joined by Flicker and Flame themselves, as well as King Allfire.

'Some day, perhaps, I shall return to that accursed place,' Allfire sighed. 'But not this time. I am too old, and would only slow them down.'

'What rubbish, Allfire!' snapped Griddle. 'You're staying because we need you in case she comes after the egg again.'

'She'd be stupid to try again so soon,' said Flame, 'surely to God!'

'It wouldn't be so stupid now that all the knights are leaving,' said Flicker. 'I still say one of us should stay behind.'

'Don't be stupid, Flicker,' said Griddle. 'Who better to protect an egg than the three of us? I've hatched one before, don't forget, and I might remind you that King Allfire is the greatest warrior England has ever known!'

' _Was_ , my dear,' said Allfire.

'Shut up!' snapped Griddle. 'And you know Flame can protect her own egg better than anyone, Flicker. So, you'd better get going at once, hadn't you?'

'Yes, Your Majesty,' said Flicker. 'You are right, of course.'

'Come back before it hatches, Flicker,' said Flame, flinging her arms around Flicker's neck.

'We'll all be back as soon as we possibly can, Flame,' said Flicker, returning her embrace. 'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

As Flicker turned to go, Flame had tears in her eyes.

'Come now, Flame, don't fret,' Griddle said blithely. 'Is not Sir Flicker our bravest and best knight? I said it would be a good idea for you to marry him, didn't I? _So_ much better than that stable boy I caught you with once. Or was he a swineherd?'

'Neither, Stepmother,' said Flame, allowing herself a small smile as she turned to watch the knights' departure through the window.


	3. Chapter 3

Volcana, now a young woman, walked through ankle-deep snow to the edge of a frozen lake.

'Lady of the Lake!' she called, her breath visible on the cold air. 'I would speak with you!'

Nothing happened. Volcana looked angry, crouched down and tapped on the ice with her knuckles. Still nothing happened.

'Lady!' she called, more loudly this time. 'Merle the Wizard has sent me!'

This produced the desired result. The ice cracked, and up rose the Lady of the Lake. She was sitting on a rocking chair, and Volcana noticed that there was a golden-speckled egg beneath her tail.

'What's Merle sending _you_ for?' the Lady demanded irritably.

'Well,' said Volcana, 'if I'm being completely honest, she didn't exactly _send_ me. But she once advised me to talk to you, if I was feeling... hard done by.'

'Why are you feeling hard done by?'

'Well, because my half-brother isn't really my father's son, and... you see, King Fluether –'

'I know all that,' said the Lady. 'What about it?'

'Merle tells me that Allfire has a great destiny, and that I am destined to be passed over for him for the rest of my life. I want that to change, and Merle says you're the one to talk to.'

'Why set so much store by what Merle says?' asked the Lady, not unkindly. 'Listen, Volcana Le Flay, only true child of Smoulderous Gard. Consider my son.' She indicated the egg. 'I've got a little bet on with Merle as to what he'll become, and which one of us wins... if either one of us wins... will be up to him.'

'I'm not interested in your son,' said Volcana. 'Anyway, he'll freeze in that cold water, won't he?'

'That's not your concern. Volcana, your destiny is what you make it. It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. Merle's been teaching you a few tricks, hasn't she?'

Volcana scowled. 'She has been teaching me some magic, yes.'

'It's up to you how to use your gifts, my dear. Got that? Now, I can't sit around chatting all day. Go and make your choices, Volcana, with the gifts you've been given.'

With that, the Lady sank back down into the Lake, and the ice closed above her. Scowling deeply, Volcana turned to go. Then suddenly she heard the ice cracking once again, and the Lady's voice rose from the water as clear as day.

'I give you,' she said, 'Excaliburn!'

Volcana turned and saw the Lady's hand above the surface of the water, wielding a sword. This she threw towards the shore, and Volcana caught it deftly.

* * *

'Oh my _God_!' cried Crackle, seated before the Minstrel once again, and bouncing with excitement. 'Volcana had Excaliburn? The Lady of the Lake _gave_ her Excaliburn?'

'Best Christmas present she ever had, I'll wager,' said the Minstrel. 'Still, as the Lady said, it was up to her what to do with it.'

'What _did_ she do with it?' asked Clinker.

'Slaughtered the innocent, did she?' asked Cinder. 'Lopped off heads left, right and centre?'

'Well,' said the Minstrel, 'not exactly.'

* * *

Volcana burst into the throne room where Fluether was sitting, still wearing his crown and still looking very pleased with himself, for whatever reason.

'Fluether Pendragon!' Volcana cried, with smoke in her nostrils and fire in her eyes, and she charged towards him with her sword raised.

'GUARDS!' yelled Fluether, leaping to his feet. 'Help! There's a madwoman trying to kill me!'

'Madwoman!' raged Volcana. 'I am Volcana Le Flay, only true child of Smoulderous Gard, whose mother you seduced to beget your nasty little son!'

'Smoulderous Gard?' said Fluether. 'Oh... yes, of course, the Lady Yburna. Did she have a son?'

Volcana roared in fury, and swiped at Fluether with Excaliburn.

'Guards, where _are_ you?' squeaked Fluether, ducking out of her way.

'They can't hear you,' said Volcana. 'They are lost in a magical sleep of my making.'

* * *

'Go on,' Cinder said eagerly. 'Then what happened?'

'She cut his throat, of course,' said the Minstrel.

'Well,' said Crackle, 'I hope I wouldn't have done the same thing myself, but considering the circumstances, I think that was quite understandable. After all, she didn't study the Code of Chivalry day and night as I do. There _was_ no Code of Chivalry back then! And if she'd had Merle in her ear, well... So, what happened next? Excaliburn was taken away from her, wasn't it? Because of one act of revenge in the heat of the moment!'

'Who said it was the heat of the moment?' asked the Minstrel.

'Now that Fluether is dead,' said Cinder, 'Excaliburn needs to get in the Stone, sharpish.'

'How did that happen, Minstrel?' asked Clinker.

'I'll tell you,' said the Minstrel.

* * *

Volcana walked calmly out of the castle, crouched down to the grass and wiped the blood from Excaliburn's blade. When she rose, she saw the Lady of the Lake standing in front of her, with a plump baby on her hip. The baby was Loungelot, of course, and he was shoving an enormous rusk into his mouth.

'What are you doing out of the Lake, Lady of the Lake?' Volcana asked in astonishment.

'I can't leave it for long,' said the Lady, 'but some things are more important.'

Volcana frowned. 'What do you want of me? Are you here to tell me I shouldn't have killed that vile, evil, loathsome, hideous disgrace?'

'Now his people have no king,' said the Lady.

'Then they may have a queen,' said Volcana. 'That tyrant is no loss! I shall lead the people to peace and prosperity.'

'Peace and prosperity? You?'

'Why _not_ me?'

The Lady looked at the blood on the grass. Then she said, 'You have no claim.'

'I claim this land by right of conquest. Why should I not? I have Excaliburn!'

'So you do,' said the Lady. 'Give me the sword. I shall make a spell.'

Volcana looked at her for a moment. Loungelot finished his rusk and belched a jet of fire. Then, reluctantly, Volcana handed over the sword, saying, 'I know you'll have it from me either way.'

The Lady turned, and approached an enormous rock formation that happened to be there, old snow still frozen in its shadows. The Lady stood over a particular stone, raised the sword and pushed it through the rock as though it were butter. Volcana gazed on in amazement as the rocks shook and cracked and came to life. Loungelot wailed, and the Lady shoved another rusk in his mouth.

'Who dares disturb my sleep?' the huge rock face asked, in ominous tones.

'It's me, you idiot!' snapped the Lady. 'Who else would it be?'

'Ah,' said the rock, 'the Lady of the Lake. My congratulations on the hatching of your son.'

'I hope he will help bring this land to peace and happiness,' the Lady said. 'If something isn't done soon, these people will ruin themselves with war, and the likes of you and me will be forgotten.'

'That is your fear,' rumbled the rock, 'not mine. I am the Rock of Ages, and I will live forever.'

'All right, fine,' the Lady scowled, 'but you can help me all the same. I'm not asking much. I just want you to hold this sword for a while.'

'Easy enough, as you say,' said the rock. 'For how long?'

'Until a good man comes to take it from you,' said the Lady. 'A man worthy of the title of King, who will lead the people to a golden age.'

The rock chuckled, and said, 'Then I will be holding it forever.'

The Rock of Ages then fell back into his deep sleep.

'A good _man_?' Volcana said, fury etched on her face. 'Cannot a woman lead the people of this land?'

'Maybe some day,' said the Lady. 'Maybe even soon. But I've a feeling it will be a man this time.'

'It's no feeling!' fumed Volcana. 'You _know_! You're talking about my dear brother, aren't you? I'm not in control of my destiny at all! It's all been preordained, by _you_!'

'You _are_ in control, Volcana!' said the Lady. 'And so is Allfire. So is my son – the greedy little beggar.' Loungelot was digging a third rusk out of the Lady's clothing. 'We are all masters and mistresses of our own destinies.'

The Lady then vanished with her baby, and Volcana approached the Sword in the Stone.

* * *

'She couldn't pull it out, of course,' said the Minstrel. 'But then you knew that, didn't you? In fact, I think we all know the rest.'

'We most certainly do not!' said Crackle. 'Okay, we know what became of Allfire and Loungelot and Excaliburn, but you're supposed to be telling us about Volcana! What happened to her then?'

'I can see how she became evil from there,' said Clinker.

'If you want to call it evil,' added Cinder. 'She got a bit of a raw deal, if you ask me.'

'I agree with you, Cinder,' said Crackle. 'And there's something important you haven't told us yet, Minstrel, isn't there? How did she get her son? Did she fall in love with someone, and lose him?'

'No,' said the Minstrel. 'Sorry to disappoint you, Crackle, but she wasn't driven to her deeds by a broken heart. Scorchred was conceived without love, on Merle's recommendation... and more.'

'Was it Christmas again?' asked Clinker.

'Funnily enough,' said the Minstrel, 'it was Christmas Eve, some years later...'

* * *

'Now not only is your brother made a king,' said Merle, in a dark chamber of Smoulderous Gard, 'and not _only_ has he conquered his wonderful palace and started recruiting his Knights of the Square stupid Table, but he's _married_! You know what that means, don't you? He'll soon have an heir!'

'Assuming the Lady Igrange is fertile,' said Volcana. 'Why should I care, Merle? There's nothing I can do about it.'

'Sure there is,' said Merle. 'Secure _your_ heir first. A boy. Then rally an army and overthrow that goody-two-shoes brother of yours before there's even a sniff of an heir of his blood!'

'I'm not even married, Merle,' said Volcana.

'Allfire's mama wasn't married to his papa,' Merle pointed out.

Volcana scowled.

'Look,' said Merle, 'I'll help you seduce some guy. It only takes one time. There will be a child. Aunty Merle will see to that. We can find someone at the Singetagel Christmas party.'

'I hate Christmas,' said Volcana.

'Well then,' said Merle, 'let's get you some happiness out of it! You could go to Camelhot, if you'd prefer. I could even disguise you as Allfire's wife, and –'

'No!' said Volcana. 'That's gross, Merle. Do you want this child to be a monster or something?'

'Well... no, sweetie, of course not.'

'Why are you so keen for me and/or my son to rule Camelhot, anyway? What's it to you?'

'You're my friend, aren't you?' said Merle. 'And don't you think you'd do a better job than Allfire?'

'He hasn't had much of a chance yet, has he?' said Volcana. 'I mean, he's only just moved in.'

'But think of how he got there!' said Merle. ' _You_ had Excaliburn! _You_ had the love of your mother and father! And where are they now, huh?'

'They're dead.'

'Oh. Well, thanks for filling me in. So, sweetie, who do you have left to love?'

Volcana sighed, and said, 'I might begin to wish I had made some attempt to love my brother.'

'But you didn't,' said Merle. 'So, _now_ what are you going to do?'

* * *

'Why didn't you ever tell any of this to the King?' asked Crackle. 'He might have felt differently about her if you had, whatever happened next.'

'Well,' said the Minstrel, 'there's always a right time to hear about these things.'

'Like _before_ all the knights were planning to kill her, maybe?'

'Who was Scorchred's father?' asked Clinker. 'Just some random?'

'Aye,' said the Minstrel. 'Merle chose a visiting envoy, who'd be leaving the next morning without any fuss, so he'd never know about the child. Then Scorchred was laid, of course, and...'

* * *

'Y'know,' said Merle, 'we _could_ just use the magic in that egg to take over Camelhot.'

'Don't you dare!' said Volcana, who was sitting on her egg beside a roaring fire.

'Oh yeah?' said Merle. 'How are you going to stop me?'

'I can't,' said Volcana. 'But please let him hatch, Merle.'

Merle cackled evilly, and said, 'He will be ruthless and, shall we say, _discerning_ in his scruples. He'll have to be, if he's to overthrow Allfire as a mere child. Are you okay with that, Volcana?'

'Oh, Merle,' Volcana sighed. 'What else could anyone expect from a child of mine?'

* * *

'Well,' said the Minstrel, 'I wonder whether the knights have arrived at Smoulderous Gard yet.'

'So do I,' said Crackle. 'I really hope they haven't killed her yet. Is there more, Minstrel?'

'Oh, aye,' said the Minstrel. 'A little more. But first let's take a wee comfort break, shall we?'

'Good idea!' said Cinder.

'Won't be long,' said Clinker, and off they went.

* * *

'This is it,' Sir Loungelot said, in ominous tones, as he and the other knights landed outside the imposing, snow-covered fortress. 'Smoulderous Gard.'

'How do you know it, Sir Loungelot?' asked Flicker.

'You may have gathered, during all that unpleasantness,' said Loungelot, 'that I had a little history with Scorchred. This is where he grew up, obviously.'

'Like the King,' said Charash. 'That's right, isn't it?'

'Not _exactly_ like the King,' said Loungelot. 'The King didn't like it here. I daresay Scorchred did.'

'Why?' asked Flicker. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, it has this _atmosphere_ , you see,' said Loungelot. 'Can't you feel it?'

'I can feel it, Loungelot,' said Sir Burnevere, 'but I cannae explain it. How can I, Sir Burnevere the Overly Educated, feel such dread merely by standing outside a castle? My head tells me it is only stone, yet my heart tells me to fear it.'

'I feel it too,' said Flicker. 'You know, Sir Burnevere, sometimes "that's just the way things are" is the best explanation.'

'Quite right, sir,' said Sir Galahot. 'True wisdom lies in knowing that we know nothing at all.'

' _Some_ of us still don't know very much about Volcana,' said Sir Blaze. 'Anyone could turn a little evil, living in a place like this.'

'If she was the driving force behind Scorchred,' said Loungelot, 'she's more than a little evil. You lot remember them coming to Camelhot, don't you?' He looked at Sir Burnevere, Sir Galahot and Sir Hotbreath. 'You can help me explain things to these three slips of boys.'

'I remember her coming with a lot of idle threats,' said Sir Hotbreath, 'first when the Princess was laid, and then when the poor girl's mother died. But that's all Volcana really had: threats and words and a lot of hot air.' He belched a huge jet of fire before going on. 'Anyway, I don't know what you're all talking about, with this atmosphere of yours. Superstitious nonsense, if you ask me.'

Loungelot sighed, and said, 'Hotbreath – dear old Hotbreath – it's simply that I know there's something unnatural and evil twisted all round this place. I don't know what it is, so no wonder I can't talk about it... but something's telling me it's time to find out.'

'I thought we were just here to sort out Volcana,' said Charash.

'You're too young to understand,' snapped Loungelot. 'There's magic here that pre-dates your birth, if not mine... and I've avoided it up to now. What am I even doing here? I'm too old for this shenanigans. But since I'm here now, I'd prefer to go off on my own, if no one minds.'

'Not at all, Sir Loungelot,' said Flicker. 'That leaves six of us. I think we should break off into pairs, to cover more ground. Whether we're in the right place or we're just wasting our time, I'd like to find out as quickly as possible.'

'Can I go with Sir Blaze?' asked Charash.

'Of course you can, Charash,' said Burnevere. 'And I'll go with Sir Flicker. He and I have often adventured together.'

'When we weren't around, you mean?' said Hotbreath. 'Looks like it's you and me, then, Galahot.'

'It will be my pleasure, sir,' said Galahot. 'How should we go about this? One pair starts at the top, one at the bottom and one in the middle?'

'No good, Galahot, old thing,' said Hotbreath, 'for the pair in the middle would not know whether to proceed upwards or downwards.'

'Not wishing to sound rude, my friends,' said Flicker, 'but I think we're in danger of descending into drivel here. Sir Burnevere, let's fly up to the ramparts and start there.'

'I'm right behind you, Flicker,' Sir Burnevere said, as Flicker took to the air.

'Where do you want to go, Loungey?' asked Sir Blaze.

'I'll search the grounds,' said Sir Loungelot. 'I've got a sort of feeling that this atmosphere business starts... _out there_.'

'He's probably just after forty winks under a tree somewhere,' said Blaze, as Loungelot wandered off. 'Look, Charash – Flicker and Burnevere have landed on that east tower. Shall we fly up to the west one?'

'All right,' said Charash, and off they went.

'Well,' said Sir Hotbreath, turning to Sir Galahot, 'I suppose we'd better start on the ground floor.'

* * *

Sir Loungelot walked through the foul and foggy grounds of Smoulderous Gard, and soon found himself wandering about in a graveyard. He shuddered as tendrils of fog seemed to brush him quite on purpose, then stopped to read the nearest headstone.

' _Sir Gadabout_ ,' he read. ' _Died horribly whilst attempting to conquer this fortress and lift its curse._ Well, we can't all be lucky, I suppose. Who's under this one, I wonder?' He squinted through the fog at another stone. ' _Sir Arthur Melton Mowbray. Born in the year five sixty-three; died in... agony with a spike up his bottom._ Hmm... maybe I'll have better luck with that particularly massive tombstone over there.'

Loungelot made his way over to the particularly massive tombstone, a wide and flat thing that shone dimly through the mist. Again, Loungelot squinted at the inscription and read it out loud.

' _This slab shall never be raised by the efforts of any man's hand but by him who shall conquer this Smoulderous Castle and the name of that man is written here beneath._ ' Loungelot blinked twice at the words, then put his hand thoughtfully to his chin. 'Hmm...'

* * *

'Sir Loungelot is right about this place,' said Flicker, as he led Burnevere through a door and down a spiral staircase, then on into a room with damp walls and a crumbling fireplace. 'Volcana couldn't possibly be living here, could she? No one could live in these conditions.'

''Tis a big place, Sir Flicker,' said Burnevere. 'Perhaps she inhabits only a few rooms.'

'Well, not this one,' said Flicker, walking over to the fireplace and the chair in which Volcana had hatched Scorchred (although, of course, Flicker had no way of knowing that). He peered into the grate, then reached up and picked out two bits of scorched cloth. One had embroidered on it _lcana_ , and the other _Allf_.

Sir Burnevere came to look over Flicker's shoulder. 'Who's Alf?'

'I should imagine it's Allfire,' said Flicker, throwing the scraps of material back onto the grate. 'I know my legends, Sir Burnevere, but I've never heard anything about this place. Flame has told me that her father never spoke of his childhood. This Godforsaken castle is not inaptly named, is it? There are terrible feelings trapped within it, smouldering within its walls, never to burn away. I could feel quite sorry for any child growing up here. Even Scorchred.'

'Scorchred was evil, Flicker,' said Burnevere. 'Remember that the King was a child here, and he grew up to be founder of the Square Table, and creator of the Code of Chivalry.'

'Yes, of course,' said Flicker. 'Sir Loungelot was right, wasn't he? Scorchred didn't grow up here like the King at all. Come on – we'd better keep going.'

* * *

'This place isn't so bad,' said Sir Hotbreath, as he entered a room full of children's toys, with Sir Galahot behind him. 'Look, a rocking horse. I bet our own royal baby would love to have one just like this. I don't suppose there'd be any harm in taking it, would there? Volcana can't want it now, and anyway she's evil, and at least we'd be keeping it in the family. It might need a bit of restoration, though. What's someone scratched on here?' He peered at the horse's left haunch. ' _Die Wart die._ That's German, isn't it? For _the Wart... the_. Well, anyway, a bit of sanding should get that off.'

'Bah!' Sir Galahot said disdainfully. ''Tis a _safety_ rocking horse, sir! The child of good Sir Flicker and our beloved Princess Flame will have a _proper_ rocking horse! On _rockers_ , sir!'

Sir Hotbreath looked at him. 'I didn't know you felt so strongly about rocking horses, old friend.'

'Indeed I do,' said Galahot. 'When all of this is over, Sir Hotbreath, you and I shall go to the village and commission the finest carpenter to – what was _that_ sir?'

That, in fact, was a familiar high-pitched wail coming from outside the window.

* * *

Sir Blaze and Sir Charash were making their way down a spiral staircase, just as Flicker and Burnevere had done.

'I suppose we're in the west wing,' said Sir Blaze. 'It feels a bit odd being here, really.'

'Must be that atmosphere everyone was on about,' said Charash.

'No,' said Blaze. 'It's just that, at my late father's estate, no one's allowed in the west wing.'

'Why?' asked Charash. 'What's in the west wing?'

'It's forbidden,' Blaze said, with a shrug, pushing open a door at the bottom of the staircase. 'Ooh, Charash, quick – it's Volcana!'

Blaze stepped aside so Charash could get through the door, and both drew their swords. Volcana, who had been sitting in a rocking chair and stabbing viciously at an effigy of Fluether Pendragon, leapt to her feet. The Fluether doll dropped to the ground, and lay there with pins in its eyes.

'So it's only you, is it?' said Volcana, relaxing her expression. 'Allfire's pathetic stepson, and his... what's the word for it these days?'

'Cousin,' said Charash.

'Whatever you say,' sneered Volcana. 'It's Sir Charash of Toasting-Forkney, isn't it? I must congratulate you, young man, on all your good fortune: your sudden knighthood, and your unexpected elevation within the family. It's _two_ dead brothers you've got now, isn't it?'

'Actually one's just in a state of limbo,' said Blaze. 'Look, how do you know so much about us?'

'I keep tabs on my half-brother's family, of course,' said Volcana. 'You're the only thing he's got that's remotely like a son, aren't you, Sir Blaze? And yet he sits comfortably on his throne, with only a daughter of the blood to succeed him.'

'And a grandchild on the way,' said Blaze, taking a step towards her, 'no thanks to you!'

'Do you think you can defeat me, you snivelling little milksop?' said Volcana. 'You aren't even a man! Neither of you is a _real_ man!'

As she said this, she raised both her arms, and the knights' swords turned white-hot. They cried out in pain, and couldn't help but drop their weapons. In the mere moment it took them to recover, Volcana reached out and grabbed Sir Blaze by his clothing, then hurled him bodily out of the window. This, of course, produced the scream that Galahot heard several storeys below.

'What did you do that for?' Charash asked in astonishment.

'I don't _like_ him!' said Volcana.

'You don't even know him, you horrible old witch!'

'I know enough. He loves his stepsister. Doesn't that make you just sick? And... and he's got a _really_ annoying voice! I just had this uncontrollable urge to defenestrate him. I... don't know what came over me, to be honest with you, Sir Charash.'

Charash gave her a puzzled look, then ran to the window. When he leaned out, he saw Sir Blaze with his wings spread, hovering outside one of the lower windows.

'We've found her, boys!' he was saying. 'She's in the west wing!'

* * *

'I wish to offer my condolences on the death of the Queen.'

Volcana was standing before Allfire's throne, with the boy Scorchred beside her. She was holding tightly onto his hand while he cast malicious glances across the room, where Sirs Galahot, Hotbreath and Burnevere were standing over a chubby little Princess Flame. Galahot caught the boy's eye, frowned, and lifted the young princess protectively into his arms.

King Allfire raised his eyebrows. 'Anything else, Volcana?'

'Yes. I wish to offer you a solution to your problems. I cannot cure your grief, of course – only time will heal that. But perhaps you'll allow me to suggest that you make Scorchred your heir.'

'I have an heir, madam,' said Allfire, frowning. 'I know that you believe in the power of queens.'

'Yes, I do,' said Volcana, 'but the people don't. You will be vulnerable with only a princess to succeed you.'

'Now then, Volcana, there is plenty of time for me to find a new wife and have a son – and until such time, or in case that time never comes, Princess Flame is heir to Camelhot.'

Volcana looked annoyed for a moment. Then she smiled falsely, and said, 'Allow me to strengthen her position, then, with a betrothal. Believe me, I want only the best for my beautiful niece.'

'A betrothal to young Scorchred, do you mean?' asked Allfire, looking doubtfully at his nephew, who was still shooting evil looks across the room.

'He is of your blood,' said Volcana. 'He will strengthen her claim tenfold.'

'Hardly,' said Allfire. 'Her claim is already as strong as may be, and Scorchred is not of my father's blood, now is he?'

'Oh,' said Volcana. 'You heard about that.'

'Yes. The Lady of the Lake had to convince me of my claim to the kingship.'

'You are illegitimate!' said Volcana, her rage suddenly escaping her, and flames shooting from her mouth.

'Nevertheless,' said Allfire, 'I am Fluether's only child, and I pulled Excaliburn from the Stone. I have a great many good years in me, Volcana, and I have an heir, and I do not intend to make her marry her first cousin.'

'But royal children do that all the time!' Scorchred whined. 'And you're only half-siblings anyway!'

'Nevertheless, Scorchred, my answer is no,' said Allfire. 'But thank you for coming to see me.'

'We shall come to see you again, Wart!' hissed Volcana, with smoke pouring from her mouth. 'I have a boy of your blood, and he is growing very strong indeed. He is only going to get better, and you are only going to get older, and the people will not accept a princess as your heir. We'll raise an army against you, Allfire, if you do not agree to my terms.'

'My knights,' said Allfire, 'please escort my sister and her son from the premises.'

Sir Hotbreath and Sir Burnevere stepped forward, and Volcana allowed herself to be ushered from the room. Scorchred dug his heels into the ground, and glared over his shoulder at King Allfire as he was dragged away by his mother.

'Spirited boy, that,' said Allfire, as Sir Galahot approached with Princess Flame in his arms. 'I suppose now we shall need to put together an army.'

'Perhaps not, My Liege,' said Galahot. 'The people will surely not be persuaded to turn against you, especially if you have a wife.'

'Well,' said Allfire, 'perhaps I should look into that, though it is so very soon after my poor wife's death. Politics aside, Sir Galahot, heaven knows that my little Puff needs a mother.'

* * *

'I bet it didn't take the King long to get married after that,' said Cinder.

'A couple of years, I think,' said the Minstrel. 'King Allfire wouldn't rush into marrying just anyone, now, would he? Mind you, I heard he only considered widows with a proven track record of hatching sons.'

'Sir Blaze isn't much proof of that,' said Clinker.

'That's rude, guys,' said Crackle.

'I didn't say anything!' Cinder said indignantly.

'What happened next, Minstrel?' asked Crackle. 'To Volcana and Scorchred, I mean.'

* * *

'Mother,' said Scorchred. 'Why didn't we just kill him?'

'Because his knights were there, my darling,' said Volcana.

'So what? You're a sorceress, aren't you?'

'The King might reconsider his position, dear. Suppose he still has no son in ten or twenty years.'

'Why wait to find out? We could have killed that horrible little princess, at least.'

'Scorchred,' said Volcana, 'she's a child!'

'So?'

' _So_ , imagine how her father would greet us then. He'd have me killed if he could manage it, and you could never get the people on your side. People don't like child-killers. They like strong leaders, Scorchred, and that is precisely what you are going to be.'

'Not with _you_ behind me, I'm not,' said Scorchred. 'Where's Merle? I want Merle! MERLE!'

Merle appeared beside him in a puff of smoke.

'What do you want?' she demanded. 'The old count at Castle Threadbare is dying. I was just about to broach a conversation with his evil son.'

'I don't care,' said Scorchred. 'I need you to help _me_ , Aunty Merle. Mother's attempts to take over Camelhot are pathetic!'

'They are, huh?' said Merle. 'All right, kid, you just leave it to me. But we're playing the long game, get it? You see that knight sunbathing and stuffing his face over there?'

Scorchred looked, and saw a very young Sir Loungelot doing just what Merle had described.

'How could I miss him?' he said distastefully.

'He's our ticket to bringing this place down,' said Merle. 'Him and Allfire's new queen.'

'Then there will be a new queen?' said Scorchred. 'And a son, Aunty Merle. We can't wait!'

'Hold your horses, kid,' said Merle. 'Do you want to stay with your mama, or do you want to come with Aunty Merle?'

'Ha!' said Scorchred. 'No contest. Sorry, Mother. No, wait... I'm not sorry at all.'

* * *

'Horrible child,' said Cinder.

'What a little maggot,' said Clinker.

'At least he stopped Volcana raising that army of hers,' said Cinder. 'That never happened, did it?'

'No,' said the Minstrel. 'She could never do such a thing without her boy of the blood behind her... or before her, I suppose.'

'Did Scorchred really give himself over to Merle?' asked Crackle.

'Eventually,' said the Minstrel, 'when he was grown. He stayed at Smoulderous Gard until he was of age, but he barely even spoke to his mother in that time.'

'What about after he left?' asked Crackle. 'Did she ever see him again?'

The Minstrel fixed him with a sad smile, and said in a voice to match, 'Aye, lad. Just once.'


	4. Chapter 4

Volcana met Scorchred in the air on the day of his death.

'Mother!' said Scorchred, almost forgetting to flap his wings for a moment. 'What on earth are you doing here? How can you possibly know what's going on?'

'I may not be much of a sorceress, my darling,' said Volcana, 'but I can keep an eye on my only son.'

'So, you've been spying on me!'

'I know that Merle kept you shut up in that ruin for years while she was busy with that Threadbare Castle person. My plans were better than _that_ , weren't they?'

'Well,' said Scorchred, 'since none of Merle's plans have actually worked so far, I suppose I must admit that yours might have been worth a try. If we'd done it your way, Mother, perhaps we'd have Camelhot by now. Both of us. But I'm going to try again. Merle made it sound very easy.'

'Merle always does.'

'You must come and see me, Mother... when at last I am King of Camelhot.'

'Oh, Scorchred!' said Volcana. 'It's never worked before, has it? And I've got the strangest feeling about this time. Please, my darling... don't die.'

'Die, Mother?' said Scorchred. 'That's the last thing I shall do.'

* * *

'That is so sad!' said Cinder, almost in tears.

'When do we get to the part where _we_ arrive?' asked Clinker.

'We don't,' said Crackle. 'That's the end of the story, surely. Volcana's been sitting in Smoulderous Gard for the past nearly three years, being eaten away inside by her own misery. That's it, isn't it?'

'Something like that,' said the Minstrel.

'Blazing dragons,' said Crackle, 'what am I sitting around here for? I've wasted so much time!'

So saying, he leapt to his feet and shot down to the kitchen, where he burst through the door and stood panting with urgency. Scuttle and Chef Turnspit both looked up in amazement.

'Sorry, guys,' said Crackle. 'I don't suppose there are any more cheese sandwiches knocking around, are there?'

'The knights took them all,' said Scuttle. 'Do you want me to make you some more?'

'You keep on kneading that dough, Boy!' said Turnspit.

Scuttle scowled, and said, 'I've kneaded and kneaded the dough all afternoon! Do you want it overworked?'

'Never mind about the sandwiches,' Crackle said, before Turnspit could start getting angry. 'I don't have time. I'll just have to go on an empty stomach. Is it far to Smoulderous Gard? Oh, but why should _you_ know? I'll ask the King.'

'Hold on, mate,' said Scuttle. 'What are you going to Smoulderous Gard for?'

'The knights... I think they might need my help. Scuttle,' Crackle said, taking a step towards the kitchen boy. 'I forgot to give you this. Here. It's nothing – just that robin footprint maker thing for the icing sugar. You remember... the chocolate log?'

'Why is it gift-wrapped?' asked Scuttle, as he took the tiny package from Crackle.

'It just sort of happened,' said Crackle. 'Scuttle... may I embrace you?'

Scuttle stared at him a moment. Then he said, 'No, Crackle, you may not embrace me at this time.'

'Oh,' said Crackle. 'All right.'

'Well,' said Scuttle, 'I am absolutely covered in flour. And you've got to go, haven't you? Aren't you supposed to be getting an address from the King?'

'Oh yes,' said Crackle, and he went running off.

* * *

Sir Loungelot was still in the foggy grounds of Smoulderous Gard, sweating and grunting as he tried to lift the tombstone. Eventually he gave up and, panting, stepped away from it. When he had caught his breath, he put his hands on his hips and frowned at the infuriating thing. Then suddenly Flicker flew down from somewhere high in the castle.

'Hello, Flicker,' said Loungelot. 'I don't suppose you fancy trying to move this stone, do you?'

'What on earth for?' asked Flicker.

'Oh, I don't know. It's just that I was trying to do it, and I had an idea that perhaps you might succeed where I have failed.'

'Not now, Sir Loungelot,' said Flicker. 'Blaze and Charash found Volcana, but she threw Blaze out of the window, and now she's put some kind of magical force field all round the room she's in and she's got Charash as a hostage.'

'Got Charash as a hostage?' said Loungelot. 'Why doesn't he just cut off her head or something?'

'I don't know exactly what's happening in there, but she _is_ a sorceress – she's probably fixed it so he can't use his weapons. Sir Loungelot, what are we going to _do_?'

'Don't panic, Flicker. At least we know she's not out kidnapping your egg.'

'But she's got Charash!'

'He's a hostage. That means she won't harm him as long as we don't harm her, and vice versa. We have some time to think. Now, about this tombstone –'

'I'm really not interested in the tombstone, Sir Loungelot!'

'Well,' said Loungelot, frowning, 'you should be. It could be our key to defeating her. It says that whoever lifts it is destined to break the enchantment on this castle. So if one of us can lift it, doesn't that mean he can defeat Volcana?'

'Does it? How?'

'Maybe the answer is under the stone or something. Raging plague, Flicker, how am I supposed to know? But it's the only plan we've got, isn't it?'

'I suppose so,' said Flicker. 'All right, I'll give it a try.'

Flicker spent a few seconds straining to lift the stone, then gave up and said, 'It isn't going to work.'

'It might,' said Loungelot. 'Fetch the other knights.'

'We can't just leave Charash with Volcana.'

'As opposed to what – standing outside the door flapping our fingers?'

'Actually,' said Flicker, 'I might have a bit of an idea. All right, I'll get them. _All_ of them.'

* * *

Sir Galahot, Sir Hotbreath, Sir Blaze and Sir Burnevere were standing outside the tower room door, flapping their fingers.

'He's only a boy still!' Sir Burnevere called through the door. 'Will you nae take pity?'

'I'm not doing anything to him!' Volcana's voice came back to him.

'I'm not a boy anymore, actually!' Sir Charash added. 'I'm nearly twenty-one!'

'Release my cousin at once, you foul wench!' said Sir Blaze, grabbing onto the large iron door handle, and immediately getting a shock of magical energy. He screamed girlishly, and jumped back.

'When are you going to stop doing that?' Sir Hotbreath asked irritably.

'I can't help it!' wailed Blaze. 'I had three cousins on my father's side, and Sir Charash is the last one. I'll die before I let anything happen to him. Volcana, take me instead!'

'No!' said Flicker, running into view from the staircase. 'Take _me_ instead! Volcana, it is I, Sir Flicker!'

There was silence. Flicker stared at the door, waiting for an answer.

'You cannot do this, Sir Flicker, sir!' said Sir Galahot.

'Volcana!' Flicker called through the door. 'It's me you really want and you know it!'

'Flicker, let's think about this reasonably,' said Sir Burnevere. 'She's just holding Charash while she tries to think what she's going to do, but if you go in there and take his place, she'll kill you!'

'I'll try to stop that from happening, Sir Burnevere,' said Flicker. 'Anyway, Sir Loungelot's got a bit of an idea and he wants the rest of you outside, Charash included.'

'Is it a _good_ idea?' Sir Hotbreath asked doubtfully.

'Who knows?' said Flicker. 'But we need to do _something_ , don't we?' He then turned away from his cohorts and called again through the door. 'What do you say, madam? Will you take me instead?'

There was another moment's silence. Then suddenly the door whipped open, and within seconds Flicker was gone and Charash was standing in his place.

'Someone should have grabbed her just then,' said Sir Hotbreath.

'Why didn't you, if you feel so strongly about it?' said Sir Burnevere.

'That's the worst of magicians, sir,' said Sir Galahot. 'How _does_ one defeat them?'

'There are ways,' said Sir Blaze, who had just finished hugging Sir Charash, 'but it isn't easy. Shall we go and see what Loungelot wants us for?'

'Aye, why not?' Sir Burnevere said disinterestedly, and they made their way down the stairs.

* * *

A short while later, Sir Hotbreath was straining at the tombstone Loungelot was so interested in, and he stopped only when something inside him went pop.

'Ouch,' he said, rubbing his back. 'Perhaps I'm too old for this shenanigans as well, Loungelot.'

'This is ridiculous!' Sir Loungelot fumed. 'Why have an enchanted tombstone here if not one of the Knights of the Square Table can lift the wretched thing? How are we going to rescue Flicker now? I still say you're a lot of good-for-nothing worms, letting him sacrifice himself like that. He's got a baby on the way!'

'Too bad you weren't there yourself to stop him, Sir Loungelot,' said Sir Galahot. 'Of course, it would have been easy for you, sir!'

'All right, all right, let's not stand around arguing,' said Loungelot. 'This tombstone idea is obviously just a damp squib, so we need to get up there and – Crackle!'

'Crackle?' said Sir Hotbreath. 'What good will it do if we go up there and crackle?'

'Don't be silly, Hotbreath,' said Sir Blaze, and he pointed at the sky. 'Look, Crackle's here.'

'Milords!' said Crackle, landing in the middle of them. 'What's happening? Have you killed her yet?'

'Not yet, squire,' said Sir Burnevere. 'It's proving unexpectedly difficult.'

'Good,' said Crackle. 'Killing her isn't the answer – I know it isn't!'

'Oh, _isn't_ it?' said Loungelot, fixing Crackle with a look of disdain. 'Then what do you suggest, my enlightened squire?'

'I want to talk to her,' said Crackle.

Sir Hotbreath snorted with laughter.

'I don't think that's going to work, Crackle,' Sir Charash said gently.

'No offence, Milord, but what do _you_ know?' said Crackle. 'Just let me try! Where is she?'

'She's up in some tower doing horrible, torturey things to Flicker,' said Sir Blaze. 'We'd better go, hadn't we? If young Crackle thinks he knows how to reach her with words, we must let him try.'

'Yet again,' said Sir Burnevere, 'anything would be better than standing around talking. But first, Sir Loungelot, do you think it would be pertinent for the boy to have a crack at that stone of yours?'

'What stone?' Crackle asked impatiently.

'See if you can lift that, lad,' said Sir Hotbreath, gesturing towards the huge stone.

'Are you serious?' said Crackle. 'All right, I'll try if it'll hurry things up, but obviously I won't be able to – oh.'

Crackle found that he could lift the stone slab with ease. Frowning, Sir Loungelot stepped forward to read the inscription in the stone beneath.

' _Here shall lie Crackle of Sutton Coldfield, son of King Pan of Candlewick._ Well, that's just typical of my luck with squires.'

'I didn't know you hailed from Birmingham, lad,' said Sir Burnevere. 'Why don't you have an irritating accent?'

'Is your father really a king, Crackle?' asked Sir Blaze.

'It doesn't matter!' said Crackle. 'Show me where they are, quick!'

* * *

Flicker stood with his sword in his hand, staring at the blade, which had turned to rubber.

'That's a good trick, Volcana,' he said. 'Are you going to kill me now?'

'Would you kill me if you could?' Volcana asked. 'As you killed my son?'

'I only kill people as a last resort,' said Flicker. 'Perhaps you don't deserve it. I understand why you did what you did. Destroying our egg would indeed have been poetic justice for my killing your son. But why hurt Flame so badly?'

'You would not have suffered my pain,' Volcana said acidly. 'You will love the child so much more when it hatches. As for causing pain to Princess Flame, you might as well know that I hate her too. It's nothing personal. It's just that she's her father's daughter. All right, I have no claim on Camelhot, but he officially owns Smoulderous Gard as well! Is that fair? Even now that most people realise my father was not _his_ father, he still owns the place, and the titles that go with it!'

'I don't know if it's fair,' said Flicker. 'I don't know the details.'

'It is _not_ fair,' said Volcana. 'For another thing, I'm the older child! All right, the law says boys always inherit first, but now Allfire himself is thinking of changing that law! He is giving his own daughter, and her daughters, and her daughters' daughters, everything that he deprived _me_ of!'

'How do you know about the proposed law change?' asked Flicker.

'Never you mind! I'd love to kill you, Sir Flicker, and her too, _and_ your child. If I could do that, I would destroy the future of Camelhot.'

'Then why don't you kill me now?' asked Flicker. 'Why are we having this conversation?'

'How can I kill you?' spat Volcana. 'I'm a fifth-rate sorceress at best. I don't have the power to destroy you with magic, and what else can I do? Kill you with my bare hands? You would kill me first, Knight of the Square Table. And if you didn't, what then? Would Princess Flame die of a broken heart? I rather suspect she would, from what I hear. Then there would only be the child to deal with. Well, one can but try...'

So saying, Volcana bared her teeth and spread her clawed fingers, then advanced towards Flicker with smoke billowing from her mouth and nostrils. Flicker took a step back, clearly wondering what to do, when suddenly there came one sharp knock on the door. This was followed by a magical flash, and an exclamation of, 'Ow!'

'Crackle?' said Flicker, dropping his guard and looking round in surprise. 'Is that you?'

'Yes!' said Crackle. 'Volcana's in there, isn't she? Volcana, listen to me! I know everything that happened to you, and it wasn't your fault! You're not evil! You're just... unlucky!'

'Unlucky?' said Volcana, frowning at the door. 'What are you on about? Who are you, anyway?'

'I'm the boy who took you to Camelhot!' Crackle called. 'Listen, it was all Merle! She was the cause of everything that happened to you, and she made your son into what he was! No one else deserves to suffer because of her! Look... could you please open the door? This is really awkward!'

'I'm not opening anything!' said Volcana. 'Go away! You don't know anything! I know what Merle is, _and_ what she's done, but blazing dragons – at least she _tried_ to help me, once upon a time!'

'Please listen!' said Crackle. 'There's something you don't know, isn't there? You never found out...'

'Found out what?'

'Merle _never_ tried to help you! She was manipulating you the whole time! Volcana, _she_ was the one who disguised Fluether Pendragon as your father!'

Volcana answered this with silence. Flicker watched her face for some seconds, holding his breath. Then suddenly she raised her hand; there was a magical flash, and the door swung open with a long and mournful creak. There stood Crackle, with the Knights of the Square Table behind him.

'I believe you, boy,' said Volcana. 'It's the only thing that makes sense. Why didn't I see it before?'

'So,' said Sir Hotbreath, 'what are you going to do now?' Then he belched.

'I still hate Camelhot,' said Volcana. 'And I'm still annoyed about your stupid referendum!'

'If you continue as our enemy,' said Crackle, 'you wouldn't just be antagonising the dragons of Camelhot. You'd be making yourself miserable! It's not too late, Volcana!

'To do what?' asked Volcana. 'Make amends with my brother? Love my family? I tried to steal Princess Flame's egg! I'm hardly going to be her favourite relation! And what about _my_ grievances? Her husband killed my son! There's no changing that.'

'Merle made a monster out of your son,' said Crackle. 'She planned it all along. She made you go to that party and pick up some random so he'd be born.'

Volcana frowned. 'You seem to know an awful lot about me.'

'I know _everything_! Volcana, please, you can stop all the pain and unpleasantness now. You don't have to try and reconcile with your family if you don't want to, but if you ever felt like trying...'

'NO!' a new voice said, and everyone looked round in surprise to see Scuttle clambering in through a narrow window.

Crackle gasped. 'Scuttle! What are you doing here?'

'You can't chicken out now, Volcana!' said Scuttle. 'Not after everything I've done for you. You said you'd have absolute power! You said you'd make me a head chef in four years! _Or less_!'

'I can't believe it!' said Sir Charash. 'Dear, hard-working young Scuttle, a traitor?'

'Who's he again?' asked Sir Loungelot.

'The kitchen boy,' Sir Galahot said quietly to him. 'Do hush, sir!'

'So it was Scuttle who told her about the referendum,' said Flicker.

'Oh, well _done_ , Sir Flicker,' Scuttle said acidly. 'I told her everything, you fools!'

'Well, in that case, then,' said Sir Hotbreath, making his way towards Scuttle, 'you're under arrest!'

Scuttle breathed a jet of fire in Sir Hotbreath's face, then used the distraction to slip through the narrow window and fly off. Sir Hotbreath tried to wriggle out after him, but his broad body stuck fast in the small space.

'Oops,' he said. 'Er... could someone give me a hand?'

Sir Blaze and Sir Charash went to help Sir Hotbreath out of his fix. The other dragons turned their attention to Volcana, only to find that she had vanished.

'Where is she, sir?' asked Sir Galahot.

'Gone in a puff of smoke, I suppose,' said Flicker.

'She's gone all right,' Sir Loungelot said, as Sir Hotbreath came free of the window with a pop, and the room was suddenly filled with light. 'Look, all that fog has vanished. The sun has come out. That idiotic prophecy was right! Crackle has broken the enchantment!'

'Well done, Crackle!' beamed Sir Blaze, looking around for the man of the hour, but he couldn't see him anywhere. 'Oh! Where is he?'

'Didn't tell him to go anywhere,' muttered Sir Loungelot.

'I think,' said Flicker, 'he's more upset than any of us about Scuttle turning out to be a spy. We'd better give him some space.'

'Some space here, you mean?' said Sir Hotbreath. 'But we need to go back to Camelhot. The King and the Queen and the Princess need to know what's happened.'

'What _has_ happened, exactly?' asked Sir Charash. 'Are we really safe from Volcana now?'

'She didn't give us a definite answer, did she?' said Sir Loungelot. 'But I don't believe she's a danger to Camelhot now, if all that sunshine is anything to go by. Look, you lot go on home. I'll find Crackle and have a chat with him.'

'A chat, Sir Loungelot?' Flicker asked dubiously.

'You don't trust me with him at all, do you, Flicker?' Loungelot said irritably. 'Go on now. We'll be all right.'

* * *

'Flicker, thank God!' said Flame, meeting the knights (bar Sir Loungelot) on the drawbridge and flinging her arms around her husband. 'Stepmother Griddle's on the egg again – you didn't miss it. What happened? Did you kill Volcana?'

'Did you _want_ us to kill her, Flame?' asked Flicker.

'I don't really care,' said Flame. 'I just want her well away from my baby.'

'So do I,' said Flicker, 'and I think we've achieved that. Sir Loungelot and Crackle had better explain whenever they make it back, and in the meantime I want to see the egg. I've missed it.'

He made his way into the castle, holding Flame's hand, but they were stopped in the doorway by Cinder and Clinker waving something at them.

'Ballot papers,' said Clinker.

'Time to cast your vote for or against women's rights,' said Cinder.

'Ah, at last,' said Flicker.

'Sir Loungelot and Crackle aren't here,' said Flame. 'How long do they have before the vote closes?'

'Ten minutes,' said Clinker. 'That egg could hatch at any moment.'

'It shouldn't make a difference, though,' said Cinder. 'I just bet Crackle would vote yes and Sir Loungelot would vote no.'

'By the way,' Clinker added, 'I hope you didn't want us to postpone the Christmas party. It starts in an hour.'

* * *

An hour later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall amongst Christmas decorations, Christmas music from the Minstrel and trestle tables filled with Christmas goodies, including a chocolate log with robin footprints in the icing sugar. Chef Turnspit was standing there, pushing holly leaves into mince pies and looking disgruntled.

' _Another_ kitchen boy gone!' he said to Cinder and Clinker, who were counting ballot papers beside him. 'First Sir Charash, then Crackle, and now Scuttle!'

'At least Scuttle gave you two years, Chef,' said Cinder.

'Was he spying for Volcana all that time?' asked Clinker.

'I guess we'll never know,' said Cinder.

Flicker, meanwhile, was jigging a hiccuping baby dragon on his hip and engaged in conversation with Sir Wick of Singetagel Castle.

'You're a natural with babies, Flicker,' said Wick. 'You'll make a wonderful father.'

'I hope so,' said Flicker. 'There isn't long to wait now. It's so nice of Princess Solder to miss the party and keep Flame company.'

'Well,' said Wick, 'if Flame hadn't come to keep Solder company while she was sitting on Ignatio, we might have lost him. Spirited lad, isn't he?' he added, watching proudly as his infant son played a boisterous chasing game with King Allfire. 'A perfect little future king!'

'Indeed so, Sir Wick,' said Flicker, just as Sir Loungelot appeared with a very downcast Crackle at this side. 'Hello, you two – you made it.'

'Yes,' said Sir Loungelot. 'I must say, I never was a fan of the Christmas party. I wouldn't mind doing some work instead, but we seem to have done it all, don't we? Blazing dragons, Flicker, do you mean to say the egg has hatched?' he added, looking in surprise at the baby in Flicker's arms. 'She's, er... not exactly got your colouring, has she?'

'This is Scarlet of Singetagel Castle, Sir Loungelot,' said Flicker.

'She'd be a bit big for a hatchling,' said Wick. 'She even lost her egg tooth yesterday.'

'Yes, I see,' said Loungelot. 'That makes more sense. Ah, buck up, Crackle – here comes the King.'

'Fine boy you have here, Sir Wick,' said King Allfire, panting, as Ignatio dragged him by the wrist into the group. 'Most... most energetic. Ah, good to see you back, Sir Loungelot.'

'Your Majesty,' said Loungelot, 'I have much news to impart. Firstly, let me tell you that young Crackle here has certainly proven his worth today. I would like to say that I highly recommend him for promotion, and I daresay the other knights will agree with me, having witnessed his triumphs today. What say you, Sir Flicker?'

'Um,' said Flicker, looking somewhat taken aback. 'I agree completely, Sir Loungelot.'

'Very well, gentlemen,' said King Allfire. 'I shall think it over. I suppose young Crackle is of proper birth, is he?'

'Definitely,' said Loungelot, shaking Crackle by the shoulder, and looking annoyed when he kept his downcast expression. 'His father was King Pan of Candlewick.'

'Was he now?' said King Allfire. 'Well, I can't say I ever heard of the chap, but he sounds all right. I say, Sir Wick, may I hold the baby? I am rather out of practice, you know, and with my first grandchild on the way...'

'Certainly, Your Majesty,' said Wick, and Flicker handed the baby to the King.

'No need to sound so amazed, Flicker,' said Sir Loungelot, taking Flicker to one side. 'It's only the decent thing to make sure that Crackle is quite comfortable after I retire.'

' _Are_ you retiring, then?' asked Flicker.

'If I can,' said Loungelot. 'I still don't have anywhere to go yet, but since Crackle has in a sense conquered Smoulderous Gard, he said he might let me live in it – assuming Volcana really has gone. I don't imagine she'd want to stay there, do you?'

'Probably not,' said Flicker. 'Well, perhaps I should be flattered that you were so keen to hang onto _my_ services.'

'I was,' said Loungelot. 'You see, with Crackle... we're not... I mean... it isn't how it was with you.'

'Oh?' said Flicker. 'How was it with me?'

'Well,' Loungelot said awkwardly, 'over the years I grew quite, er...'

He was saved the trouble of finishing this sentence when Princess Solder suddenly burst into the room, shouting, 'It's hatching!' Then she burst out again.

'Did you hear that?' cried Queen Griddle. 'The egg is hatching! Come on, everybody, quick!'

There was suddenly a stampede of Camelhot's king and queen, knights and servants, together with Wick and his two children. Flicker hung back for a moment, and Sir Loungelot waited with him.

'Courage, man!' he said bracingly, clapping Flicker on the back. 'You have nothing to fear.'

'Thank you, Sir Loungelot,' said Flicker, and they made their way from the Great Hall.

* * *

Princess Flame was standing over the egg, holding Princess Solder's hand as the golden-speckled shell gradually cracked and shifted, and a sharp little tooth began to poke through. Within moments, Flicker was at her side. She grabbed his hand as well.

'Oh, Flicker!' she whispered. 'It's really happening at last!'

'Excuse us,' said Cinder, as he and Clinker pushed their way to the front of the crowd, 'but we really should announce the result of the vote before it's finished hatching, shouldn't we?'

'Of course!' said King Allfire. 'Hurry, Cinder and Clinker!'

'It doesn't make a difference now, does it?' said Sir Wick. 'It's too late to influence anyone.'

'We'll tell you anyway,' said Clinker.

'Older siblings inherit first,' said Cinder, 'regardless of gender!'

'Huzzah!' cried most of the people in the room, while Flicker and Flame began picking bits of shell off the baby's head.

'Here it comes!' said Queen Griddle.

'I'm an uncle!' squeaked Sir Blaze, flinging his arms around Sir Charash.

At last, the baby was free of the egg. It stared up at the crowd in front of it, blinking in bewilderment, its one sharp tooth hanging from its overbite. Then it hiccuped a little jet of flame. With tears in her eyes, Princess Flame reached out and picked up her child.

'Oh, Flicker!' she said. 'Can you believe it?'

'Not yet,' said Flicker, reaching out to the child, and welling up himself when it grabbed his finger.

'Excuse me,' said Sir Hotbreath, 'but is it a boy or a girl?'

Princess Flame checked. Then she said, 'It's a boy!'

There came, from most of the dragons in the room, a collective groan of disappointment. Then Sir Galahot cried, 'No, no, no, sirs! This is joyful news indeed! A future king for Camelhot! Huzzah!'

'How wonderful!' cried Griddle. 'A future king! He shall be betrothed to –'

'No!' said Princess Solder, taking her baby daughter from Wick's arms and holding her close. 'I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no.'

* * *

'And so,' said the Minstrel, sounding suddenly much older, hunched in a cloak and sitting on a village horse trough, 'Camelhot's future was secure. They called the child Ember. Under the new law, he always held the title of Prince, and Sir Galahot bought him a proper rocking horse on rockers.

'And, because we always liked happy endings at Camelhot, Prince Ember did fall in love with and marry Princess Scarlet of Singetagel Castle, and one of his sisters married Prince Ignatio. You can see how royal families get so inbred, can't you? And the youngest of Flicker and Flame's children... ah, but that's a tale for another day.

'Now, if my story entertained or enchanted, you may show your appreciation in any way you see fit – but particularly with money.'

The Minstrel produced a wooden box and placed it on the ground in front of him. People stood up from wooden crates and a handy wagon tongue, approached and dropped a few coins into the box.

'Did Sir Loungelot retire to Smoulderous Gard?' asked a child in the crowd.

'Aye,' said the Minstrel. 'He changed the name to the Enjoyous Gard, and received the Royal Family of Camelhot many times. Young Crackle, meanwhile, became one of the best and bravest Knights of the Square Table, and time healed the wounds inflicted by Scuttle's betrayal, though I daresay he will always have the scars.'

'What about Volcana Le Flay?' a voice asked. 'Do you know what became of her?'

'We never heard from her again,' said the Minstrel, 'nor from Scuttle. Goodness knows whether he became a head chef, a professional spy or something else. I never heard any more of Merle either. Perhaps she has simply been forgotten, and faded away, and that is the end of magic. Who knows?'

He picked up his money box, then looked up and saw the dragon who had asked about Volcana still sitting on the wagon tongue.

'Thank you,' the Minstrel said. 'It's all over, friend. There is no more.'

'It's not exactly the way _I_ remember it, Minstrel.'

'Crackle?' said the Minstrel, straightening up and approaching the figure. 'Is it you?'

' _Sir_ Crackle, Minstrel,' said the dragon, getting to his feet. 'As you said yourself.'

'So I did,' said the Minstrel, smiling a wrinkled old smile and shaking the dragon knight's hand.

'I must say,' said Crackle, 'you do tell a rather good tale – terribly exciting and all. But I was intrigued you chose to omit certain, um...'

'Well,' said the Minstrel, 'that's the way they like it, and besides, I don't think they'd believe me if I told the way it really was.'

'We did hear from Volcana again,' said Crackle, 'many years later. Sir Flicker and I persuaded the others to give her a chance, and she was as good as gold. In fact, she and the royal children became quite close, in her last few years. She was old, of course... but she died happy at last.'

'That's wonderful news, Sir Crackle. I'll mention it the next time I tell the story. And Scuttle...?'

Crackle shrugged, and said, 'Suffered an early heart attack from the stress of being a head chef, maybe? I sometimes wish I knew, but... oh well. You should come back to Camelhot, Minstrel. There are tales in the making all the time, you know, and I've heard that the earlier stories which happened in your absence have become rather insipid in the telling.'

'No, my friend,' said the Minstrel. 'I'm getting too old to remember anything but the distant past. Besides, how many legends are born of peace?'

'Yes, we are indeed living in a golden age,' said Crackle, 'and will do so as long as dragons of King Allfire's blood sit on the throne of Camelhot. I hope your stories will always live on, Minstrel.'

'Oh, I daresay they will,' the Minstrel smiled. 'Such stories always do... in some form or other.'


End file.
